


A Brave New World

by DelphinusDelphis



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Divergent After Season 3, Diplomacy, Dorks in Love, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Reconciliation, the art of flying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 170,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphinusDelphis/pseuds/DelphinusDelphis
Summary: The war against Aaravos is over, and the peoples of both the Pentarchy and Xadia are continuing to work towards peace with each other. There's still a lot of work to do, and many old wounds still left to heal - but a lot can be achieved when you have the support of the people who matter most to you.Almost five years after the Dragon Prince was returned home, Lux Aurea is set to host a Summit in the coming spring that will turn the Truce between humans and elves into a more solid and binding Alliance. Rayla is anxious about seeing her family and kin again when she returns to Xadia as a diplomat for the Summit, but first she has to survive the winter in Katolis with a visiting group from Xadia, which includes some of her peers from the Silvergrove, where she is still technically banished.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Callum & Ezran & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Claudia & Soren (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Lain & Rayla & Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince), Lain/Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 98
Kudos: 180





	1. Old Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I have dabbled with fanfiction before, but I'm new to this site and a bit rusty with creative writing. I've had these ideas swirling around my mind for a while now, so I'm going ahead and writing them down even though it will most likely fly in the face of whatever happens in seasons 4-7 xD so once those seasons air, please consider this an AU! I want to improve my creative writing skills, so please feel free to give me any constructive feedback.

The day dawned warm and bright, despite the autumnal cast to the trees and the not quite frosty dew on the grass; one last gift from summer before winter settled down its roots in earnest. Rayla watched the sunrise from the top of one of the towers, enjoying the peace and quiet of the early morning before the rest of the castle fully woke up. She was leaning back casually at her ease against a window, having chosen this particular tower because it was currently unoccupied and unused, so she was less likely to disturb others and guaranteed not to be disturbed herself. The wind was gentle, and where it reached the sunlight, was warm – but in the shadows the chill of impending winter was palpable.

Rayla closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady her mind. So many thoughts were chasing themselves around her head it almost, but not quite, made her feel dizzy.

The kingdom was preparing to celebrate in style the following week, which meant Callum and Ezran were both rushed off their feet keeping up with meetings to discuss the festivities, let alone the everyday problems of running an entire country. And almost immediately after that, there were meetings arranged to discuss the preparations for the Xadian visitors who would be staying in Katolis over the winter months. And then after that, the Pentarchy would be sending delegates and representatives of their royal families to Lux Aurea for a Summit, which would hopefully solidify the current Truce into a real and legally binding Alliance between humans and elves.

That was what was happening in the future, and the past was plaguing Rayla’s mind just as much. She thought of her parents, still only recently released from their imprisonment. That was a twisty, windy mental path she had been trying to unpick, with not much success, so she was currently avoiding it. After Callum had managed to get them out, and the shock had worn off, they had decided to stay and protect Zym – which seemed fair enough. However, they along with her were still technically banished from the Silvergrove; many elves of different nations had called for a hearing on their behalf during the Summit to have this sentence revoked. The way Ibis had described it the last time they had spoken, it would simply be a matter of formality, and so that there would be a permanent record attesting to their fully justified actions in light of the circumstances.

None of this made Rayla feel any better about the situation, and her gut twisted with anxiety every time she thought of the fact that other Moonshadow elves would be roaming around the castle by the end of next month. She didn’t feel she could turn down Callum’s request to help settle the Xadians in when they arrived, and while she was happy to assist in keeping the peace any way she could, part of her was dreading it. She wondered if she could face any of them when she was still considered worse than dead to their society…

When the guard changed, Rayla sighed to herself and slowly stood up to stretch before she descended reluctantly into the growing noise and commotion of the castle, as the day began proper.

Rayla liked going for runs across the castle roofs; it was very different to running through thick woodland, where she was most at home running amok. The novelty of her stony playground hadn’t worn off yet, and it also meant she could get the jump on Callum when she felt like being annoying. As she skimmed across the library roof, grabbing a banner to help her descend, she saw Callum walking along the outer wall, and decided she wanted to be annoying. Diverting her course, using the banner to swing herself around to another low roof adjacent to the main library, Rayla carefully picked her way over to the outer wall, and fell into step a fair distance away. Matching his pace and lengthening her own stride, she carefully snuck up behind Callum and prepared to spring.

Once she was close enough, and there were few to no witnesses around, Rayla pounced. She wrapped an arm around his neck and pressed the other hand over his eyes, and grinning when he yelped and scrabbled in her grip.

“Guess who!”

Almost immediately she felt him relax, and resisted the urge to kiss his cheek as there were two soldiers at the far end of the walkway, oh so casually looking in their general direction. It was common knowledge that Prince Callum was in a relationship with an elf, but that didn’t stop the guards from getting twitchy when she messed around and attacked him like this. Ezran thought it was funny, and usually helped her whenever he could get away with it, while Callum just accepted it with good natured exasperation. The castle guard, not so much…

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Callum pretended to ponder long and hard on the question, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Let me think… A purple unicorn with silver wings and a bright green tail?”

Rayla let go of his neck, keeping the hand over his eyes in place as she swung herself around to stand in front of him. He gave her that gentle, complicated smile of his when she revealed that it was in fact her, and not a purple unicorn. That was the first clue that he wasn’t coping today. The second was the way his hand went to his chest, just over his heart, and pressed firmly like he was trying to staunch a wound.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said lightly with a flippant little shrug.

“Oh no, my day’s ruined!” he lamented dramatically, managing a real grin even if it only lasted for a brief moment, arm thrown dramatically over his brow.

After sharing a giggle, he held his hand out to her, and Rayla took it with a gentle squeeze before falling into step by his side. She glanced at him sidelong, noticing the way he held his shoulders and pulled at his tunic underneath his scarf.

“You okay?” she asked quietly as they entered a doorway that led onto one of those long, winding corridors that went past a bunch of council chambers and meeting halls, as well as Callum’s own study after the fifth door on the right.

“Yeah,” he tried to play it casual and vague, but she knew his scar was bothering him.

The closer Rayla looked, the more she could see the strain in his face. Callum hadn’t managed to tame his hair that morning, or get round to shaving, and she could see those subtle little signs that he hadn’t slept particularly well. With everything going on around him at once, one could expect Callum to be under a certain amount of stress, but the fact that his wound was bothering him was a cause for concern to Rayla.

Trying to deflect her attention, Callum asked casually, “So what are you doing today?”

Rayla shrugged grandly, giving him one of her sardonic smiles. “Nothin’ this mornin’. Amaya’s asked for m’help this afternoon on the trainin’ grounds,”

“Doing anything this evening?” Callum asked, his tone light and airy as they passed a group of advisors and courtiers.

Everyone had to pause for a moment while they all bowed to each other, all in specific and different ways according to their rank and the rank of those around them. Rayla joined in, feeling exasperated. She hadn’t been raised in this kind of environment, and she found all this etiquette a waste of time and effort. Callum agreed with her sentiment, but he went along with it all anyway because it was second nature to him, and because the headache that would result from deviating from these little displays of political alliance simply wasn’t worth the hassle. Especially because a couple of the advisors were from Neolandia, with whom Katolis still had a shaky and tenuous relationship.

“Not tonight.” She said evenly, waiting for the group to be out of ear shot before turning to look at Callum again. “Why?”

He gave her a real smile. “You want to dine with us tonight?”

Rayla returned his smile and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’d like that.”

When they reached his study, Callum leaned over to kiss Rayla’s cheek. She gave him a crooked smile and tilted her head just enough so that he caught the very corner of her mouth. He took the hint and leaned in to kiss her fully on the lips. She left him with a smile, but once she was out of sight of the closed door her expression slipped with concern.

Callum wasn’t one to complain, but she could tell that his wound was starting to flare up again. He had been attended to by some of the best healers in Xadia after the fact, and none of them could quite fathom exactly what had been done to him. It was a Dark magic spell, cast by Claudia but probably devised by Viren himself; it had left Callum with a nasty burn and extensive scarring across his chest, over his heart. Like most traumatic wounds, some days were worse than others, and with the burdens of running a kingdom Callum was becoming more prone to hiding his pain from everyone. Including Rayla, though she was sure that was more about not wanting her to worry. For someone so in tune with his own emotions and those of others, he could really be an idiot sometimes.

Rayla sighed heavily and went off to find something to occupy herself with for the rest of the morning. Keeping active and busy helped her to not sit and think for too long on painful topics. Her anxieties about the coming winter, and then going back to Xadia, facing her parents…and Runaan’s dour glares every time Callum’s name was mentioned, having to attend a hearing and explain herself. All this, on top of her fresh concern for Callum’s well-being…she thought her head might explode. Being so close to the full moon didn’t help matters; the extra energy made her agitated and fidgety at the best of times.

In the end, Rayla found herself in the bakery with Barius for most of the morning. He was one of the few humans in the castle that she had complete and utter respect for; he had done so much for Ezran while Callum had been travelling through Xadia. That, and the fact that he was fully prepared to run onto a battlefield with naught but a handful of baked goods and his sturdy rolling pin in hand. Rayla liked to use him as a shining example of human courage because of this. He was a gruff old duffer, but he treated everyone with the same respect and curtesy within the walls of his bakery. If you didn’t show him respect, you were out on your ear, no matter what your station in life. He also seemed to like Rayla a lot, and tolerated her sarcastic and cheeky nature enough to set her on tasks around the bakery. Rayla didn’t like to admit to herself that Barius probably knew and observed a lot more than he would ever let on, but he never passed comment on anything she said or did. This, coupled with the fact that she was often asked to knead bread dough, reminded her of her childhood; Ethari used to set her similar tasks in their kitchen, and had always been able to read her mood like she was an open book. And like Ethari, Barius didn’t ask her what was wrong, and just let her exist in this space; a jangled bundle of nerves wrapped up carefully and tightly so the rest of the world wouldn’t see.

They chatted a bit while she was there. She laughed and joked about the extra work load he had for the festivities, and he gruffly countered that it was nothing compared to the sheer number of jelly tarts the King and his familiar could get through in a single day – this festival was child’s play by comparison, apparently.

Just before lunchtime, Soren bounced into the bakery with a _clank_ of metal and gave Rayla a deep and flamboyant bow.

“My Lady Elf,” he said with a mockingly posh accent and a twirling flick of the wrist.

“Hey soldier boy.” Rayla threw back, munching her way through an apple while she took a break from bread making.

“General Amaya wants you to meet her at the archery range.” Soren got straight to business. “Thinks a little horseback riding will do the recruits some good,”

Rayla raised an eyebrow and bit her tongue to stop herself from saying something unfortunate. She doubted the newbies Amaya had been lumped with were up to the challenge. Every group of new recruits had about a month of training from the General within the first eighteen months of their commission; it kept them on their toes, gave them a taste of what would be expected of them in the army, and gave Amaya a chance to lay the ground work for their discipline, which the other Commanders would continue to reinforce in her absence. And she was not the kind of person to pull her punches.

Soren smiled blandly at Rayla, apparently as bored as she was at the moment, and said, “I can tell by that expression that you’re _ecstatic_.”

Rayla sniggered to herself.

“Am I wrong?”

“No. I’m just amazed you know what the word ‘ecstatic’ means.”

“Hey,” he drew himself up importantly and adopted the kind of lofty expression the older and more arrogant advisors and ministers might have worn when they were looking down on someone more lowly ranked than they. “I have books smarts too, y’know.”

“Fates preserve us…” Rayla muttered under her breath. She stifled a grin when Barius chuckled in response, carefully and deliberately avoiding meeting her gaze.

“Does the General wish for some oatmeal raisin cookies this afternoon?” the baker asked loudly to cover for Rayla’s snickering.

“Only if Lord Corvus has been in the kitchens today,” Soren folded his arms and made a little gesture with his hands, grinning contritely. “Sorry man, but no one else makes the cut. It’s nothing personal,”

“I still feel the need to ask,” Barius said primly, and tipped Rayla a wink as he walked by with a fresh tray of jelly tarts.

Once he had sorted about half the tarts onto a plate for the King, Barius went to another countertop that had another stack of pastries on it. He gave a handful of goodies to the pair of them, and then good naturedly chivvied them out of the kitchens so he could prepare lunch for the High Council.

“You seen Callum today?” Soren asked lightly, digging into a jelly tart as they meandered towards the first courtyard.

Rayla raised an eyebrow as she took a bite out of the pastry in her hands. It was a long twist, sprinkled with a mixture of cocoa and flaked almonds, and was one of the few things that made up for the lack of moonberry surprise in Katolis. “Yeah. Why?” she replied warily.

Soren gave her a side long look, the corner of his mouth twisting into a frown, and she knew he had noticed as well.

“Looking a little worse for wear, wouldn’t you say?” Soren said softly as they stepped out into the brilliant autumn sunlight, glaring off the cobblestones.

“Yeah, I’d noticed.” Rayla sighed, slowly tearing the last pastry in her hands apart. This one was a cinnamon swirl, and she shredded it the way she wished she could shred her problems.

“I can’t get him to talk.” Soren said simply, and gave her an unimpressed look when all Rayla could respond with was a grunt. “I thought maybe you’d have more success.”

“What do you want _me_ to do?” she asked, brushing the crumbs from her hands on her close-fitting trousers.

“He’ll _listen_ to you,” Soren whined. “He needs to give himself a break, seriously. The guy’s going to spontaneously combust otherwise.”

“Take it up with the Council, then. They’re the ones giving him a hard time,” Rayla said in a bright tone to try and hide her mounting irritation from passers-by. Soren, however, read her eyes and posture, correctly guessing her true thoughts on the matter. It was annoying how well some of these humans could read her. Soren was painfully right, of course. And it wasn’t the High Council as a whole, just a few individuals, and some of the more militantly minded ministers…

“Rayla,” Soren sighed and briefly pinched his nose. “Look, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think he was struggling. You _know_ him, and you know he’ll _listen_ to you,” he gave her an imploring look.

Rayla regarded him stoically. Like most humans she was now friends with, their relationship had got off to a particularly rocky start. And yet here they were, steadfast friends. Being an only child, and having been set on a path that required diligence and devotion to training from an early age, Rayla had no idea what it was like to have siblings. Over the years, she had come to see Soren more like a brother than anything else; a super annoying, egotistical, loud mouthed git at times, but a loyal companion who would always pull through for you when it mattered most. As such, she was fond of Soren, and she knew he wouldn’t be bringing this up with her if he didn’t also think the situation was getting serious.

“Have you noticed it’s bothering him?” Soren added quietly as they ducked back into the shade of a cloister, taking a short cut to get to the military’s training grounds. He didn’t have to say anything; the twist to her mouth said it all. “If you’re the one telling him to take it easy, he might actually listen. I tried bringing it up this morning and he just kept pretending not to hear me and answering a different question.”

Rayla snorted with laughter. Callum liked to use that tactic on her too. It never worked, and it usually ended with them bickering when she called him out on it, getting incredibly snarky while she was at it. Sometimes she couldn’t fathom just why Callum put up with her.

“Ahh,” she affected an airy, wise tone. “The politician face.”

After a long pause in which she kept her gaze straight ahead, Soren groaned dramatically. “I hate you both _so_ much sometimes.”

Rayla spun round and gave him her best grin, and Soren stomped off in a huff. She followed in his wake, trying not to laugh at his misfortune. ‘The politician face’ was what Rayla called Callum’s tactics for evading questions and specific topics. It was funny to watch him use it on the Council and ministers and visiting diplomats – it was _super_ annoying when he tried to use it on her. And Soren shared in her pain.

“You know, crap like that is why I never bothered in school.” Soren admitted as they strode onto the training grounds, making a bee line for the stables and the gathering crowd there. “My parents thought I’d be a minister when I grew up. I figured by the time I was eight I’d make a way better knight.” He pulled a face, grimacing and shuddering theatrically at some far-flung childhood memory. “Callum used to come back from his lessons, talking like a politician…eugh! He used to try to play those mind tricks on _me_ ,”

“Oh really,” Rayla asked casually. “How’d that work out?”

“Well, I mean it _didn’t_.” Soren stated bluntly. “I just wound him up and called him a doof and the step prince.”

They both paused, and Rayla regarded him coolly from the corner of her vision, lips pursed.

“I think we both know I was a massive jerk back then. Now, I just want to smack some sense into his stupid head, instead of, y’know…” he gestured uselessly. “Just smacking him.”

Rayla twisted the corner of her mouth, arching an eyebrow and saying nothing. She hated to admit, even to herself, but it was one of Runaan’s tricks. He had the ability to twist silence into a weapon and inflict it on someone, just through his expression. It was probably why she still had a lingering and pathological need not to let anyone down – it hurt to be on the receiving end, and growing up her biggest goal had been to make him proud of her. Rayla brought her focus back to that moment, because thinking about Runaan hurt too much.

Soren squirmed under her gaze for a few moments before he cracked wide open. “Argh! _Fine_ ,” he stomped off again. “Whatever. I won’t smack him.”

“Good.” Rayla shot at him.

Soren turned to look over his shoulder as they prepared to part ways, her to Amaya and him to the rest of the Crownguard waiting for him by the smithy. “I know that’s your job.” He grinned before breaking into a sprint. “Bye!”

Rayla folded her arms and shook her head at him, trying to look annoyed but her fondness leaked out into her expression. A shrill whistle pierced the air, and she turned around to see Amaya lowering her hands from her mouth and signing impatiently for her to hurry up. Rayla broke into a run and came to a skidding halt behind the General very quickly, which startled the closest recruits. Having an elf, but especially a Moonshadow elf, so close to the full moon, appear seemingly out of nowhere with such speed was an unnerving experience to the uninitiated. Callum, Ezran and the others were so used to her doing things like this that they didn’t bat an eye lid; it was honestly funny to watch the soldiers’ faces for a second opinion on the matter.

“Finally,” Amaya signed with a grim expression before she cuffed Rayla as she walked out from behind her.

Rayla tried to give her a contrite smile and failed miserably. She used a lexicon gesture that conveyed an apology, and nearby Commander Gren tried not to laugh. Amaya eyed the movement of his shoulders and signed something too quickly for Rayla to catch before rounding on her again.

“Archery.” Amaya signed, and gestured imperiously towards the racks of weaponry near the stables. “Horse back. Handle it?” when she conversed with Rayla her movements were far more slow and deliberate, and she tried as best as she could not to include ‘short hand’ gestures that would only confuse her further. Rayla struggled with Katolian Sign Language, in part because that extra finger featured in a lot of gestures that then had to be altered to accommodate her hands, and also because spelling words with signs was an exhausting mental process. She had to first translate letters from Elven script into the Katolian alphabet, and then into the corresponding hand gesture – which took a lot of focus and thought, a skill set she was bad at. Reaction and reflex were her greatest skills.

Rayla was grateful for Amaya’s patience with her today, and she realised very quickly that any annoyance the woman felt was not directed at her but at the situation they were stuck in. She didn’t want to be here dealing with the newbies during a time of celebration, but duty called. That didn’t mean Amaya would go any easier on the sorry lot, nor did it mean Rayla was off the hook for being late. She gave Amaya a thumbs up to show she understood, and went to get a weapon quickly so the session could start.

Bow in hand, fiddling with the quiver that didn’t quite want to cooperate with her elven belt, Rayla edged her way into the fringes of the crowd, and stumbled upon another couple of humans she had grown fond of over time. Marcos gave her a tired smile by way of greeting, and beside him another soldier of lower rank who had run manoeuvres with Rayla fairly often gave her a winning, sarcastic smile that Rayla was rather proud of. Marcos had been steadily making his way up the ranks for the last few years – and that had led to him having the honour of joining them on this training exercise as he was one of those Commanders who would carry on the regime in Amaya’s absence. And put mildly, he looked less than thrilled to be there.

“Heyyy.” Jenny said with all the fake enthusiasm the rest of them were feeling but were for the most part too afraid to display openly.

“Ready?” Rayla asked, casually sweeping the bow up and over her head so that it came to rest across her shoulders. She crossed one foot over the other and balanced on the balls of her feet, shifting her weight comfortably and somewhat enjoying the way the newbies eyed her with awe and fear. They were about to learn that Prince Callum’s elven girlfriend was not immune to Amaya’s iron fist. She just wanted the illusion that she was accorded special treatment to last a bit longer before the image was shattered by whatever evil plans Amaya had concocted.

“I’m ready to jump off the astronomy tower,” Jenny said through her teeth, barely moving her lips because Amaya was staring straight at them.

Marcos leaned back a little, head tilted skywards, and sighed loudly.

Rayla grinned a wild, fierce grin and said, “Too late to take it back?” oh so innocently dipping her shoulder so that the end of the bow knocked into his arm. Marcos was almost always game for banter, and they had a good laugh over the fact that she hadn’t killed him that dark and stormy night – and just look at everything that had unfolded from that one act of what Rayla had first thought was weakness. Rayla liked that humans found ways to express the kinds of emotions that her people actively worked to supress; having a good laugh over near-death experiences and murder made it easier to come to terms with what had happened. He liked to tease her about how it was his fabulous eyes that had won her over, which he had inherited from his mother’s side.

Marcos now stared hard into the distance, and then in a tightly controlled voice done mostly for effect, he said, “I’m considering it.” He blanched when Amaya looked straight at him and signalled her displeasure at the pair of them.

Into the awkward silence, in which the closest recruits shuffled uneasily at the oh so casual way Marcos and Rayla were talking about a very serious topic, Jenny sniggered loudly. Amaya signed something, using a couple of expletives, and Gren translated, censoring for the rest of them – which nearly had Rayla in stitches. Callum had coined the phrase ‘Grensoring’ to describe the diplomatic way that Gren managed to convey Amaya’s words whilst keeping them mostly fit for polite society.

“Now, now, children. Behave.”

What she actually signed was more along the lines of ‘shut the fuck up guys’, using her pet name for Rayla which was ‘quicksilver’. Rayla tried to rein in her more snarky tendencies and bowed her head with Jenny, not stepping out of her very relaxed stance. Marcos gave his commanding officer a look of utter despair before he bowed too.

Once Amaya was satisfied that the old hands were firmly under control, she turned to Gren with a nod, and then began her speech, welcoming the new recruits to the fold and informing them that the next month would be the month from hell. Rayla threw her gaze out across the sea of faces; some were determined, some looked eager – most looked like startled Moonstrider cubs caught in the midday sun. While Amaya signed and Gren translated, her mind wandered, and she thought about how the other assassins must have felt when Runaan had placed her into advanced training. They had looked at her askance, at least until she had had the chance to prove that she could keep up with them. Runaan had been hardest on her because he had believed in her abilities. Glancing at Amaya now, as she told them all emphatically just how hard she was going to push them, she acknowledged to herself that Amaya was doing the same thing to her now. It was Rayla’s job to help teach the new soldiers, which was a test on her own patience as well as the soldiers’ diplomacy. It couldn’t be easy to have an elf floating around in charge of their training, even if it hadn’t an elf who had first come to their kingdom with the express intent of killing their king and prince.

The speech ended, and when no one asked any questions, Amaya, raised a hand and spun her wrist in a circle as she raised the other and beckoned to Rayla. Gren then did what Gren did best, and started to organise the soldiers into teams, delegating jobs and making sure everyone was properly kitted out, being upbeat and professional about it as he went. In the meantime, Amaya explained to Rayla and Marcos what she wanted from them, and they went to get horses while she let Gren ease the newbies into position.

“Good luck,” Rayla said, looking at the tired expression on Marcos’ face.

He smiled back wryly. “You too,”

Marcos went on the first demonstration, and as he circled around to canter back to them, Amaya deposited herself beside Rayla and stared at her. Rayla blinked, and kept her eyes on Marcos.

“Yes, General?” she asked lightly.

When she did look at Amaya, she had that enigmatic smile that reminded her of Callum when he was expressing a range of emotions all at once. She signed slowly, asking Rayla to keep her sarcasm reined in just a bit longer, promising that once they let the recruits loose on the task she could be as snarky as she liked.

Rayla gave her a roguish smile and said simply, “Yes, boss,” forgetting as she spoke to sign, and then realising she couldn’t remember the right sign anyway.

Amaya clapped her hard on the back by way of affectionate acknowledgment, and went on her way. Out here on the training grounds, that was the extent to which Amaya’s favouritism would go, and Rayla wondered dully if she would even make it to dinner with Callum that evening. Nearby, a soldier was struggling to get into the saddle; he reminded her of Callum trying to mount a Moonstrider, except he had been fourteen and trying to hold onto a baby dragon at the time, and this idiot had to be at least two or three years older than Rayla was now. At least Callum had outgrown his awkwardness, even if he was still the clumsiest person she knew.

It was going to be a long afternoon…

XOXO

Rayla did in fact survive the training session, but she felt drained, and Callum found her stomping her way back to the castle covered in mud and cursing Amaya’s name, which made him chuckle. She threatened him as she stormed past, making the guard nearby look very uncertain, but the lack of a weapon in hand or the fact that she wasn’t even bothering to look him in the eye as she promised to kill him signalled she didn’t mean a word of it and was simply grumpy.

A quick scrub down and a change of clothes didn’t quite improve her mood, but Callum caught her again as she was leaving the barracks and pulled her into a secluded corner beneath a stone stair well. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek, and she slowly melted into his embrace. Callum smelled like lavender and jasmine – one of his favourite soaps – and he was clean shaven again. Rayla always appreciated the lengths he went to in order to stay that way; she didn’t like beards or whiskery kisses, and for himself he was fairly ambivalent on the subject.

Callum tried not to, but he gave into temptation and sagged heavily against her; he felt so tired…

Rayla lifted a hand to stroke his hair, and leaned back enough to look him full in the face. Callum gave her a genuine smile, and hoped rather than believed that she hadn’t noticed the strain in his expression. He had a sinking feeling Soren had done exactly what he had: gone to Rayla when he failed to get results himself.

“Better?” Callum asked softly, smoothing her damp hair back off her face.

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes to belie her irritation. “Your Aunt just hates me.”

Callum chuckled, and kissed the tip of her nose, making her blush.

“What about you?” she asked lightly, her gaze going just a little bit stony.

He gulped, too late to stop himself, and her eyes flickered towards the motion. There was no way he could wheedle his way out of explaining. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Thankfully Ezran came bouncing around the corner, grinning from ear to ear, and proceeded to take up most of Rayla’s attention. He had exploded in size over the last four-and-a-bit-years; he was taller than Callum now, almost as tall as their Dad. His big, frizzy hair added to the illusion of stature – his impish smile and childish guile did not. He was like a dog in the last stages of puppyhood, big in frame with big wide eyes and a habit of knocking things over as his mind tried to catch up with the expanded dimensions of his body. Callum had to laugh when Ezran ran at Rayla and flung his arms around her with a happy grin. She returned the gesture with a grin of her own and mussed up his hair into an even greater mess before she bent down to scoop up Bait.

“Callum said you could make it to dinner,” he was practically dancing on the spot, full of an energy Callum wished he could partake in. Watching his little brother bounce around just made him feel all the more tired. Ezran looked expectant and hopeful until Rayla stuck her fingers in his hair again and rubbed hard.

“You bet I can!”

“Great!” Ezran whooped. Then his smile became fixed and he said, “Because after the day we’ve had, we _need_ someone normal and sane to talk to! C’mon guys,” he grabbed Bait and raced off.

Callum sagged again, this time for dramatic effect. Mostly.

“I don’t know where he gets his energy from.” He said in a dull tone.

Rayla slid up against his side and took his hand with a smile. “You’re lookin’ to _me_ for normal and sane? Ohhh,” she drew a hand over her eyes and then made it into a fist that sat over her heart as she spoke to the ceiling. “How far you’ve fallen in a single day!”

Callum gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll take crazy and daring over stiff, stuck up and pompous any day.”

“Ah.” They met each other’s eyes, and she saw his exasperation. “Tarren.” She guessed.

Callum sighed again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“C’mon, let’s go before Ezran tears the castle down,” she gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey!” Ezran snapped, leaning around the corner of the corridor so he could see them. “I’m not _that_ bad!”

Rayla turned to Callum, lips pressed together to hide her smile. “What does the King’s right-hand man say to that?”

Callum looked from one to the other, and settled with, “No comment,”

Rayla rolled her eyes and Ezran sniggered to himself.

XOXO

Dinner that evening was great fun for all of them. They sat huddled around one end of the long dining table in Ezran’s rooms in no particular order (Callum was seated at the place that humans customarily called the ‘head’ of the table, where the king should be sat). Rayla had Bait on her lap as they ate and talked about everything and nothing in particular. No one talked about the training manoeuvres, or Council business, or commented on any political happenings in the Pentarchy or Xadia at this time. It was a pleasant breath of fresh air for the lot of them, and Rayla started to think that Ezran was in need of a break almost as much as Callum, as Soren had stated.

After they had eaten, they went back to Callum’s rooms to sit and talk for a while in an informal setting. Callum inhabited a very modest suite a floor below the King’s Chambers; it was really just one big living space connected to a bathroom, study and bedroom. Callum rarely had more than a couple of guests at a time, so the dining table was pushed up against the back wall underneath the large windows that let in a lot of sunlight. It was usually covered in paper and ink wells and a thousand sketches and paintings. To the right of the main door was a comfortable fireplace with a big squishy couch set before it; a tiny oven sat in a corner where he could boil water and maybe heat up a small amount of food if he needed to, but not sufficient for cooking. The study was just a bit bigger than a cupboard, with a heavy desk, laden shelves and even more paperwork scattered all over the place. You could be forgiven for thinking that the person who lived here was only a minor minister; the only give away that a Prince was in residence were the royal banners hanging above the hearth and over the bed in the next room. Rayla liked it in here, the place reflected Callum’s personality; unassuming, humble, and chaotically organised. He also preferred dark blues and greens in his décor instead of the usual Katolian red; his rooms were more like the house she had grown up in than anywhere else in the castle. The final thing that just cinched it was the beautiful, starry blue moon orchid Ethari had given him last year for his birthday, sitting pride of place on the table where it could catch the best balance of light and shade.

Callum poured everyone a sparing glass of moonberry cordial, and they all settled back on the sofa with a united sigh of relief after the long day. It felt nice to just sit together like this, without any prying eyes watching – they all felt comfortable just being themselves without the burdens of duties hanging over their heads. Just like the good old days when it was just them, Zym, and aa hundred miles of wilderness.

Eventually, as the evening drew on, Ezran made a show of innocently noticing the time. “Y’know, it’s getting late. Maybe you should turn in for the night,”

“What about you?” Callum asked, instantly latching on to his brother’s turn of phrase.

“Well,” he smiled impishly, flashing his dimples and hoping it would placate Callum. “I still have a couple of letters to write to Del Bar and Neolandia. And get the other two sent off.” He added, looking nebulous on the matter.

“Do you want any help?” Callum offered, and behind him on the arm of the sofa Rayla smacked the heel of her palm against her brow before raking her fingers down her face as she fell back against the cushions dramatically.

Ezran kept his eyes carefully on Callum’s face so that he didn’t look at Rayla and start laughing. “No, thank you, Callum – I should be able to handle it. You enjoy the evening,”

Callum folded his arms and gave Ezran his best unimpressed-big-brother look. Ezran tried to puff up his chest and look very kingly and commanding as he stood up. Rayla raised an eyebrow at how ridiculous the pair of them were, and then giggled when Bait grumped from the floor beside Ezran’s boots.

“If you’re sure.” Callum said slowly. “I’m more than happy to-”

Rayla threw her head back and groaned loudly with exasperation, and he barely deigned to look over his shoulder at her display.

“Callum,” Ezran rubbed his temples after passing a hand over his eyes, and Callum felt a small twinge in his heart that threatened to overtake the dull, pulsing ache from his old wound. In that moment, Ezran looked so much like their Dad… “You need a break. It’s clear your scar’s bothering you,” Callum blanched, realising suddenly that he had not at any point had either of them fooled for a moment. “Just take the evening off!”

Rayla slid languidly from the couch and slunk over to stand beside Ezran. She tried to lean her arm on his shoulder, like she used to do, but the bastard had had another growth spurt recently, so she ended up leaning heavily against his arm like he was a stone column instead. Callum glowered from one to the other; Rayla gave him a wicked, jaunty sort of smile, and Ezran folded his arms, trying to look like Harrow and actually doing a pretty good job of it.

“You’re not going to win this.” Ezran said simply. Rayla gave Callum that self-satisfied smirk of hers, the one she used when she knew she had won and was getting her way.

“Fine.” Callum snapped, grumpy and offended that the pair of them would gang up on him like this, and put out that he had not been as subtle as he had thought he was about hiding his physical pain.

“Good.” Ezran smiled, and gently nudged Rayla off his arm. She saluted before dipping into an extravagant bow. “He’s all yours. Bring him back in one piece. Night guys,” he bent down to scoop up Bait, and left the room.

Rayla walked forward with the kind of predatory smile that never failed to spike Callum’s pulse. “I promise _nothin’_.” She said emphatically after the door clicked shut.

Callum sighed, and passed a hand over his eyes, not realising he was also doing a really good impression of Harrow. “I can’t win, can I?” he grouched at her, trying to ignore the way she was looking at him and flexing her hands like she wanted to grab him. “Either I go do work and you’ll whine at me all evening, or I let you have your way and-”

Rayla silenced him by leaning forward and biting his lower lip, letting the very tip of her tongue run along it. That never failed to make him shiver with anticipation. “And _you’ll_ be the one whinin’ and wimperin’ all night long.”

Callum exhaled a shaky breath, looking at her through half closed eyes. “I could live with that,” he murmured.

“Are you _sure_?” she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, swaying her hips suggestively when he put his hands on her sides. “Cause you’ve been walkin’ through m’mind _all day_. And I think it’s payback time.”

Callum leaned back a little, giving her a dull look. “That’s so bad, it sounds like something _I’d_ say.”

“You don’t like me usin’ your own pickup lines?” Rayla asked innocently, twirling a lock of his dark hair around her finger with an innocent little smile.

“I just thought you were more original than that.” He pretended to fold his arms and lean back against the cushions and looked unconcerned. They both knew he had already lost, but the thrill of the chase was rather pleasurable for both of them, so they kept up the pretence a little longer. Rayla was want to complain if he made things _too_ easy for her, after all.

“What would you like me to say?” Rayla asked. As she spoke, she slowly and deliberately straddled his hips, bringing herself closer but not close enough to diffuse the tension they both felt.

“Something daring. And unbelievably sexy.”

Rayla’s response was to bite his lip again before going in for the kiss. He didn’t mind losing to her like this. Callum had been thinking about her just as much as she had about him that day. He let his hands wander up her back, tracing sweeping curves against her spine, and when he got to her shoulder blades-

“I’m not wearin’ any under wear.”

Callum hummed appreciatively, and let her lead his hands inside her shirt to her breasts. “Are you sure you didn’t secretly train as a seductress?”

“Pretty sure,” Rayla gave him a lazy smile. “It’s just for you,”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes briefly, leaning back as she settled down against his lap and started grinding against him as his hands started to work their own particular brand of magic on her. She gasped when he pinched both nipples at the same time he raked his teeth across her neck, pulling at the sensitive skin just below her ear. He hovered just next to her ear, eyes half closed, licking his lips.

“Two can play at that game.” He said simply, and gripped her harder.

“Callum…” she breathed, unsteady. If they didn’t make it to the bed soon, she was going to have him right here on the couch.

One hand slid out of her shirt and slipped through the waist band of her trousers. Fingers roamed across her backside before flexing, gripping hard enough that his nails dug into her flesh. She retaliated by rocking her hips forward against him, kissing his mouth hard to keep him from working on her throat and further unhinging her. She wasn’t about to give him the upper hand – he had to fight for that privilege.

Callum suddenly gripped her tighter; a spasm ran through his chest and rippled along his arms, and it felt more like he was clinging to her for support, just as he broke their kiss, gasping in pain. A hand flew to his chest and clutched at his heart, and he just stared at her like a dazed bird for a moment, blinking something from his vision that she couldn’t perceive.

“Callum?” she asked, stroking his face more gently.

He bowed his head, still clutching his chest and wincing, pulling his shoulders forward and down like he was trying to cradle his injury. Rayla was off his lap and kneeling between his legs in an instant, undoing his shirt to check the damage. She tried not to let her shock and worry show when she saw the bruising around the edges of the scar tissue, or the way the wound itself looked dark and almost diseased; deep purple like an angry storm cloud, shot through with discoloured red where the fire had burned him.

“How long has this been hurtin’ ye?” she asked, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Callum gave her a measured look, and took another moment to gather himself. His voice was steady when he said, “Since last week.”

Rayla glared at him.

“It comes and goes.” He tried.

“You _need_ to see a Xadian healer.” She threw back at him. “So help me Callum, I’ll drag you to the infirmary m’self if I have to.”

“Okay, okay,” he raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll go tomorrow. I just thought Brock and others had enough to deal with right now.”

Some idiots had been playing with fireworks ahead of the main celebrations, and there had been a nasty accident that had had the hospital wing busy for days. Brock was one of the first elves to come to Katolis after the Truce was announced; a cheerful Earthblood elf with a wicked sense of humour, and a very talented healer. The guy was a joy to be around, but he could be merciless if you threatened anyone under his care; he had already been in trouble for chewing out the youths who had escaped the worst of the damage in this mess with the fireworks for their stupidity. Although Claudia had switched sides before the end of the war against Aaravos, Callum had a feeling that Brock would never forgive her for inflicting this injury on him. Brock had spent days tending to him, and understood the injury better than anyone else. If any elf _could_ help, it was him, and he was thankfully on their side of The Breach.

“You better,” Rayla growled at him. And then, because she couldn’t hold it back any longer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Callum just gave her that sad, complicated look of his, and she felt her anger deflate. She was still royally pissed off with him, but it was tempered with concern that made her actions more gentle.

“I honestly didn’t think it was any worse than normal. I just…didn’t want to worry you,”

Rayla gave him something like a pleading look, stroking his face. “It’s been gettin’ worse since you got them out, hasn’t it?”

He gave her a real smile, but it was pained and tired and hurt to behold. His use of Dark magic in that instance had been justifiable – a ‘necessary evil’, he had called it. That didn’t make it any easier, to watch him commit the act, or to witness the fall out; Callum always suffered for it when he had to resort to that branch of magic.

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon,” she took his hands and gently pulled him to his feet. Healing was not something Rayla had learned as a child, neither was it a skill she had picked up during adulthood, except the barest minimum the Katolian Army required for active duty. But she had learned by watching Brock and the others, and she knew how to alleviate the worst of the symptoms.

Rayla made him sit on the chair at his writing desk, and once she had mixed up the solution she needed, she placed the bowl on his lap and jumped up to sit on the desk, bracing her feet on the arms of his chair. She took a cloth and carefully soaked the wound, trying her best not to hurt him even more. Callum winced a couple of times but didn’t complain. Rayla imagined he was developing a headache as well, judging by the look on his face. The longer she tended to him, the more she could see the strain making itself known, leaving him looking drained. Maybe it was a trick of the fire light, or that the angry red and purple on his chest eclipsed the natural colour of his skin, but his face looked unusually pale. The solution she had thrown together was a mix of different herbs and oils, that Brock had taught her to make. It kept the wound clean and it dulled the pain caused by Dark magic. It was the best she could do without cajoling him into seeing the healers tonight; it was a short-term cure for the symptoms of a more serious, underlying problem. And as Callum himself had annoyingly pointed out on several occasions, quick fixes and short cuts were pretty terrible remedies in the long run.

The mood had already been ruined, and Rayla was far more concerned right now with Callum’s continued good health than she was about anything else. Once she had finished, she placed the bowl on the desk beside him and she leaned back to appraise the situation, wondering if she _should_ take him to the infirmary tonight instead. Callum was leaning back in the chair, looking a bit more relaxed. She brushed the mop of hair out of his eyes, and he cracked them open to look at her, with a small and contrite smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“You will be,” she growled. Now that the immediate crisis had been averted, if only for the moment, she was pissed off with him.

“I ruined the evening.” He said in a small voice.

“No you didn’t,” she sighed. He didn’t look convinced, so she held her arms wide and said, “C’mere,”

Callum leaned forward in the chair, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his hair and sighing again deeply. He responded by leaning in and nuzzling into her shoulder. She liked it when he reacted to her touch; he had been unconscious, dangerously ill and unresponsive too many times for comfort. Feeling his hands on her back, cheek against her hair, fingers running up to touch one of her horns…she didn’t need to tell herself he was alive and well, because she could _feel_ it. Her irritation evaporated as quickly as it had arisen, as she held him in her arms.

“You should probably get an early night,” Rayla said at last, reluctantly preparing to pull herself away from him, but not after pressing one last kiss to his hair.

“I don’t want to.” He told her petulantly.

“Tough shit,” she gracefully dodged his clumsy attempt to kiss her and slid off the desk. She spun his chair around and gently pulled him to his feet again. “You’re goin’ t’bed.”

“Are you coming with me?” he asked suggestively, waggling his eyebrows and putting an annoying emphasis on the word ‘coming’.

Rayla gave him her best, flat, sardonic look. “You’re goin’ to bed before you do somethin’ stupid.”

“What?” he asked, managing to put a spring in his step as she turned to walk across the room. “Like this?” he grabbed her backside and gave her a squeeze.

Under normal circumstances, that would have been enough to convince her to agree to his proposition. But she was too worried about potentially hurting him further to want to risk it at that point. With her back still to him, she closed her eyes and pinched her nose.

“I know I’m a glutton for dishin’ out punishment, but that sounds a little extreme.” _Please take the hint, Callum_ , she begged silently.

“Maybe I want to be punished,” he murmured in her ear, his breath a teasing caress.

“And maybe I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already are,” she spun round gracefully, keeping just out of his reach so he couldn’t try to tempt her again. “I’m _serious_ , Callum.”

He gave her a truly apologetic look, and gently took one of her hands in both of his. She gave him a loving squeeze, conveying without words that he had her full support, whatever the problem was.

That was one of the things she loved most about this relationship; she had learnt from him that she could give voice to her feelings and emotions, and he had learned that you didn’t always have to state explicitly out loud _what_ you were feeling. They had developed their own sort of shorthand for communicating on an emotional level. A smile here, and gentle caress there; a single look could convey a myriad of things in one go, and they had learnt to read each other thoroughly.

“I…have a confession,” Callum dropped his gaze to their hands, and gulped. “I’m having nightmares again. It started, when…” he unconsciously touched the very edge of the scars to the left of his heart. “I don’t really want to be alone tonight,” he admitted, bringing his gaze back up to meet hers.

“You don’t have to be,” she told him softly.

“And…” now he _really_ looked sheepish. “I sort of wanted to make love with you, because it helps to be thinking about something else…”

Rayla understood what he really meant, and was clumsily trying to put into words; that he relied heavily on her emotional support, and sex was just one – admittedly deeply pleasurable – expression of her love and affection for him. But she couldn’t resist the chance to tease him, so she said, “Oh, and there I was thinkin’ you loved me for m’body.” She really hammed up the lamenting tone, throwing a hand over her eyes and leaning away dramatically.

Callum chuckled and took the opening she had provided to step closer. “Well, your body certainly isn’t hurting the situation.”

Rayla laughed softly, but her brow quickly creased again with concern. “I don’t want to hurt you in the process,” she told him.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just made a mess of tonight.” He looked deeply contrite, and was a little afraid that he had hurt her feelings.

“Then let’s get you to bed,” she gave his hands a gentle tug towards the bedroom. “The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner tomorrow can start.”

It was a familiar enough arrangement, and they both went through the motions of getting ready for bed. She spent quite a lot of nights with him, sometimes for sex, sometimes for comfort, and sometimes just because they wanted to spend time together and she was too lazy to go back to the barracks at the end of the night. Rayla pulled on a borrowed night shirt, and helped Callum out of his day clothes, trying to avoid aggravating the wound as she went. It looked a _little_ bit better for her ministrations, but she was quite sure he needed to see a healer as soon as possible. They climbed into bed, and Callum curled himself up on his side, alongside her, and snuggled in contentedly. Rayla wrapped her arms around him and returned the gesture, enjoying the close, easy intimacy they shared.

After a long and comfortable silence, Callum kissed her collar bone. “I love you.”

Rayla smiled up at the ceiling, and ran her fingers through his hair. She loved how easily those words always fell from his lips. She tilted her head down to look at him, and felt an answering pull deep inside at the look on his face. “I love you too,” she murmured, leaning in to give him a deceptively chaste kiss on the lips. “Dummy.”

Callum gave her a lopsided smile. “Would you like to reconsider?” he asked in a small, hopeful voice.

Rayla sat for a while in a state of indeterminacy. On the one hand, she didn’t want to cause him any more pain than he was already in, and she could get a bit rough during sex. On the other, sex was a pretty good stress reliever for both of them, and it would probably help them both sleep better tonight. There was also that nagging feeling at the back of her mind, clawing its way steadily forth to the front of her thoughts; she loved him, and she had been wanting him all day. She wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad combination.

“Maybe,” she said slowly, losing the argument in her own mind before she could even get it on the table to discuss with Callum. “Do you feel up to it?”

“If you are,” he said vaguely, which drew an aggravated groan from her. “I don’t want to force you to make love with me if you don’t want to, or out of pity…”

Rayla flopped back against the pillows with another groan. “Stop killin’ the mood…”

Callum rolled away from her onto his back, and was quiet for a long while. He was afraid that he was just digging the hole even deeper, and was quite prepared to just leave it at that and start over in the morning, but Rayla slowly rolled after him, pressing herself up against his side, and kissing his cheek tenderly. He turned his head, and they just looked at each other for a long moment, each assessing the other’s expression and thinking about how to react.

“Sit up,” she told him quietly.

Happy to oblige, he heaved himself up, and Rayla made a careful nest of pillows to support his back against the headboard. Once she was satisfied, she threw a leg over his lap and settled back against him, hands resting either side of his head on the carved wood. It was a beautiful piece of workelfship. Workmanship, she corrected automatically… it was a scene of a tree laden with fruits and animals creeping through the branches and from amongst the roots. It was just the sort of thing someone like Callum would have chosen.

“Right,” she said, taking control of the situation, cupping his face with her hands tenderly, but he could feel the strength in her fingers. “I want you. But you _have_ to tell me if your chest hurts. Okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed.

Rayla gave him a crooked smile. “You’re no use to me if you’re passed out.” Then, more gently, leaning in to press her lips to his forehead and lingering there for a long moment. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I’ll be good.” He promised.

“Excellent,” she said smugly, and started kissing his lips, rolling her hips very suggestively as she reached for the hem of her borrowed night shirt.

“Err, R-Rayla?” Callum asked in a shaky voice, gently pushing her away. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Rayla knew what he was talking about, but she toyed with him for a little bit. Fluttering her eyelashes innocently, she said, finger tapping her cheek, “Mmmm…no, I don’t think so. Why?”

Callum blushed. “Err, just that…” he bit his lip, and her eyes followed the motion. Realising he was just turning her on even more, he tried to adjust his purchase on the bed. “Have you used the contraceptive…?”

Rayla gave him a wicked grin and pinned his hands to the headboard, taking care not to press herself against his chest. “Put it in before I came over. The solution’s good for sixteen hours, so…” she let her words hang in the air between them.

Their preferred method of contraception was for them both to drink their own separate, special tea every day, as well as Rayla using one of her menstrual sponges soaked in a solution that deterred pregnancy. They tried to keep supplies in both bedrooms, and Rayla might think far enough ahead in advance like this in case the chance for a ‘liaison’ (as Callum liked to call it) presented itself.

Callum looked defeated at her words, in the best possible way. He wasn’t the push over he had been when they first met. They butted heads all the time, over a variety of different things, and he had never been afraid to call her out if he felt it necessary. But there was just something about seeing him helpless and powerless to resist her…she got a real kick out of dominating him in bed, knowing how strong spirited and in control of himself he was the rest of the time. She knew exactly how to turn him into a writhing, incoherent mess. Granted he knew just how to do the same to her, but she also knew that tonight he really wasn’t up to that.

Pressed against the headboard, completely at her mercy, Callum licked his lips deliberately, and closed his eyes as she leaned forward. They could each feel the other’s breath against their skin, and the tension mounted perceptibly. It was a sweet, taut thing, that promised so much more.

“Take me,” he begged.

Damn him. How could she refuse him anything when he spoke like that? Taking great care to avoid his chest, Rayla let go of his wrists, letting her fingers trailed along the insides of his arm. The fingers of her right hand paused to trace another scar on the inside of his left arm – a wound inflicted by Aaravos that thankfully didn’t have any lasting magical repercussions. They wrapped their arms around each other and kissed again, and she slowly gave in to the sensations and the deep, loving intimacy that came with being this close to Callum. He pulled back briefly, looking a little worried, and when prompted, he spoke in a low tone.

“I love you. I want this, because I want _you_. You know that, right?”

“Callum,” she rolled her eyes. “Of course I know that. I wanted a little stress relief tonight m’self. Why do you think I’m riskin’ your good health for ten minutes of passion?”

Callum scowled and tried to push her away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled into his shoulder. “Give me _some_ credit!” he groaned.

That he had learnt to control himself and out last her long enough to ensure she almost always came before him was a matter of personal pride to Callum. Humans had a plethora of innuendos about the size of one’s manhood being an indicator of how well he did in bed. Elves had a similar set of expressions, but one’s horns were generally the main sign of good health and virility. Because she couldn’t tease him about horns, she tried at first to tease him about his penis. That hadn’t really worked; Callum was for too comfortable and secure with himself and their relationship to be that easily offended. So she liked to tease him about his stamina instead, which hadn’t been especially good at the beginning of this particular aspect of their relationship. The absolute worst she could do these days was poke his pride and encourage him to prove her wrong, which he usually managed to do.

“Aww,” she cooed, playing with his hair and caressing his face as he tried to look anywhere but at her. “Is my mage prince feelin’ grumpy?”

“You are so _infuriating_ ,” he scowled at her.

“But sexy?” she asked, striking a pose as best she could at such close quarters without losing her balance. She might have leaned up against his chest and used her breasts as weapons if she wasn’t conscious of how raw and painful looking his injury was.

Callum closed his eyes and swallowed. She kissed his throat, lingering on his Adam’s apple. “Unbearably so,” he groaned, this time from pleasure, breathing hitched as her tongue ran languidly along his jugular vein. She didn’t bite, but she let her teeth run the rest of the length of the blood vessel, and enjoyed the way he shivered.

This close to the full moon, all of her senses were heightened. Rayla could practically feel the beat of his heart, the rush of blood in his veins, the uneven rate of air beneath his ribs. All those tell-tale signs that brought her comfort when he was sick or injured, knowing he was alive and fighting. It felt a bit strange sometimes, knowing she could pick up on those signals because she had been trained to kill, to end them. And instead, she used them to monitor her lover’s wellbeing, to keep him safe.

“Callum,” she said with slow deliberation, tracing the planes of his cheek bones with the tip of her finger, head tilted at an angle as she appraised him. “I’m gettin’ tired of conversation.”

“I _did_ ask you to take me,” he grumbled.

She leaned in close and kissed his bottom lip, and sighed when he responded by biting hers. “How can I deny you anythin’ when you look at me like that?”

“Shut up.” He told her comfortably. “And fuck me.”

That was it. She couldn’t resist any longer, and the talking came to an end except for breathless moans and the occasional question of whether the other was all right as things progressed. Rayla had to make a concerted effort to keep herself under control; her forte was rough, and that ran a risk to Callum right now. The wound had already contracted one infection that had taken weeks to recover from, she didn’t want to be the cause of another one because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. In the end she had to grip the headboard to make sure she behaved, and Callum being the bastard that he was took advantage of that to run his hands all over her body, focusing on the areas of special interest to him before settling on her hips when the end drew near. Rayla bit her lip and looked deeply into his eyes, fighting down a whimper, which only inflamed his passions. A hand touched her cheek, caressed her skin softly, following the line that curved across her cheekbone. The other hand slid between their bodies and she cried out loud, forgetting to be quiet and restrained. Even when she was in the dominant role, he still knew how to undermine her, and she was too far gone to care at this point.

They ended together, shaking and crying out into each other’s arms, slowly coming down from the high, reluctant to let go for even a moment. When Rayla could bring herself to, she got up to attend to the mess that always came with sex, letting Callum lean back and rest. As nice as it was to share this intimacy, she could see the exertion had taken a greater toll on him than he had anticipated. She set a couple of goblets aside in case they got thirsty in the middle of the night, then crawled back into bed with him, kissing his temple and holding him close.

“I love you,” she murmured against his hair, feeling heavy and sleepy and satiated.

Callum repeated the words back to her, in her native dialect. That was another thing she adored about him; he had gone out of his way to learn her language fluently, and he liked to compliment and flirt with her in her native tongue. He spoke more than he could read and write, and his accent was markedly foreign, but he learned quickly.

When Callum winced, she rolled him onto his back, and pressed up against his side, laying her head on his shoulder. “Don’t strain yourself,”

Callum sighed, apparently annoyed with himself. He preferred to sleep on his side, curled up like a banther kit all warm and snuggly. Apparently, one of Rayla’s finest features were her pillow like qualities; he liked to wrap himself around her like a sprig of ivy and snuggle in, and she didn’t really mind sleeping on her back or her side, so she could accommodate him easily. It seemed tonight the roles needed to be reversed, so he didn’t hurt himself in the middle of the night.

Once he was comfortable, Callum drifted to sleep easily. Sex had a soporific effect on him this late in the evening, and with the added fatigue of his chest and the Council, it was little wonder he fell asleep so quickly. Rayla stayed awake a while longer, stroking his hair, studying his face, just enjoying being near him. The impending full moon made it difficult to sleep for long, but she found peace in his presence, even if he was unconscious. He’d grown up so much since they had first met…the baby fat had been stripped from his face a long time ago. His cheek bones were sharper, softened only by the fine fuzz of stubble when he forgot to shave; the slant of his eyes was more prominent now that he was older, and less prone to fits of googly eyed wonder. She loved his eyes, she thought they were his most attractive feature.

Rayla’s lip curled into a lopsided smile. She had never gone through the phase all the other teenagers in the Silvergrove had seemed to, of having crushes and starting to notice who exactly took their fancy. She had wanted to find someone, to have something like the relationship she saw Runaan and Ethari had, what she dimly remembered of her parents, but she didn’t feel that _urge_ the other kids had talked about just by looking at someone. Then she had met Callum, made friends with him, and inexplicably fallen head over heels for him – and the wanting, _needing_ , had started. She had admitted, very sheepishly in the middle of the stumbling phase of their physical relationship, that she didn’t know what her ‘type’ was, didn’t really understand why she suddenly felt attracted to him like that.

Because he was Callum, he asked a couple of searching questions, and listened carefully to her answers. He had deduced she was what humans called demisexual. It basically meant she didn’t feel an attraction for someone unless she already had an emotional bond with them. That rather neatly explained how she felt, though she had rolled her eyes at the fact that humans had a word to describe literally just about _anything_. In Xadia, at least among her people, you just loved who you loved, and may or may not feel attracted to anyone in particular, without a neat little label to tack on to your feelings.

Although, Rayla had to admit, she found his eyes _really_ attractive. She wasn’t sure if it was because she could read the depth of his emotions, or because the dark green reminded her of her home.

Home…

Rayla sighed and buried her face in Callum’s neck. He shifted in his sleep at the contact, turning his cheek in her direction, but didn’t wake up. Now that she wasn’t talking to him, or otherwise engaged in any activity, her mind was free to wander, and it stumbled back around to her banishment. It had been over four years, and it still hurt that they hadn’t overturned the decision, despite everything she had done for them, for Xadia. She couldn’t help but feel like the hearing sounded more like a trial. She wanted desperately to be pardoned, to be allowed to go back to her childhood home, to be formally recognised as having done the right thing in the eyes of her people.

And her parents…she wanted to see them again, but she was too afraid to try and bridge the gap between them. She felt deeply ashamed for having ever doubted them, guilty for being hurt that the rest of her people had done to her the exact same thing she had done to her parents: shunned them, when they most needed help…

And she felt guilty because Callum was likely suffering now because he had freed them from those accursed coins using Dark magic. Granted, he had special dispensation from the king of Lux Aurea, had healers on hand to help anyone who needed it, and the guidance of Viren’s journal and an old sorcerer from Del Bar, who had been terribly apprehensive of the kind of power Viren appeared to have been capable of wielding. Still, it had been a difficult, dangerous process despite every safety net they could throw up, and Callum had been laid out for a week afterwards with a fever. That was when the nightmares started coming back, and the twinging, shooting pains in his chest had first reappeared.

What must her parents have thought of him? They had been dazed, weakened from the state they had been held in for so long, and when they started to recover, utterly bemused by the proceedings. Runaan had been an ungrateful git and complained about Callum using dark magic. Callum himself had been too weak to really care by that point, and Rayla had almost bitten her tongue in half to keep from saying something she knew they’d all regret. She had left Lux Aurea under a heavy cloud, without saying goodbye to Runaan or Ethari. She only said goodbye to her father because he had caught her by accident early the morning she had left, and hugged her farewell, wishing her a safe trip. Neither of her parents had said much about Callum, but then they had more important things to attend to at the time, she supposed. Rayla had sent them a letter when they got back to Katolis, telling them she had returned safely, hoped they were feeling better, and she would see them in the spring. She had heard back once, which was how she knew they were staying with Zym. They wished her well, and asked her to convey their thanks to Callum, and that was about it.

It had all felt distant and remote. She didn’t know how she felt about her parents, didn’t know _what_ to think. All she knew was that the emotions stewed and festered inside her, and she was struggling to find the right words to try and express them to herself, let alone Callum. Being the kind, compassionate soul that he was, Callum knew she needed time and space to be able to express herself, preferably on her own terms. These thoughts had been mostly under control, but realising just how in bad shape Callum was brought all that guilt back to the surface again.

Rayla sighed, and buried her nose against his skin. He smelled like summer, and parchment and ink. It anchored her in the here and now, and she could still feel the warm afterglow of their love making. She allowed herself a smile at that particular expression. Like elves, humans had a lot of euphemisms regarding the act of sex, and her favourite one was ‘making love’. It was the one Callum most often used, and it perfectly described how it felt when they were intimate with each other. She focused on that instead of the maelstrom of worries that tried to whir around in her mind. She listened to Callum’s slow, steady breathing, matching her own to it for a while until she felt calm again, and let herself drift to sleep by his side.

Rayla woke up before sunrise, and found her fingers entwined with his and resting on his stomach, his other hand resting in the small of her back. When she stretched languidly and snuggled up against him, he squeezed her fingers and stroked her back unconsciously, but stayed asleep. She waited patiently, feeling a lot calmer now than she had yesterday, for Callum to wake up. Eventually, he stirred and slowly roused himself, smiling when he found her so close by. She smiled and kissed his lips, her smile deepening as he clumsily reciprocated the gesture, still half-way asleep.

“You okay?” she murmured, stroking his dear face.

“Yeah,” he hummed gently and rolled awkwardly onto his side so he could more easily embrace her. “I’m so comfortable right now.”

Rayla really liked hearing that phrase.

“Good.” She tapped his nose lovingly. Then her smile went flat and she tweaked his nose a little painfully. “Because you’re goin’ straight to the infirmary.”

Callum gave her a dull look and collapsed against the bed with a groan. “You’re a tyrant.” He accused her.

“If it’ll get you healed, then yes. Yes I am. Get up,” she instructed, and he groaned again. “I will drag you by your hair, so help me-!”

“Fine!” Callum grouched. He shuffled around, taking his sweet time to get moving. By the time he had crawled out of bed, Rayla was already dressed and combing her hair. She spun round at his sharp intake of breath, and dropped down to check if he was okay. Callum winced and let her slowly remove the hand he had clamped down across his heart. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have waited.” Then, because of the angry silence she was emitting, “Don’t say I told you so.”

“Fine. I _will_ say that I _did_ tell you to go get checked-” she had to stop, because he gave her the kind of long suffering look Ethari used to give Runaan, and she almost laughed at him.

“Your love, my dear,” he said, kissing her cheek gently. “Is such a sweet and infuriating torture.”

“Aww, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She grinned.

Callum needed help getting to his feet, and once they were both up and had pulled their boots on, she helped him out of the door and down the corridor towards the hospital wing. Rayla may have felt more self-conscious about the guards who watched them go, but her focus was on Callum’s heavy tread. It was plain for anyone to see that he was not well, and no one questioned Rayla’s attentiveness or loyalty. She didn’t know it, but the main reason no one objected or tried to interfere as they went was because her earnest expression and constant attention to his needs made it clear that their Prince was in safe hands.


	2. Our Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given Elf Callum's horrendous accent and the number of people I know from southern Africa, I have developed my own head canon for Earthblood elves. Brock's accent is specifically a South African one, but often mistaken for Xadia's equivalent of Australian and/or New Zealand accents. I intend to try and make some jokes and puns on this in the future once more elves are present in the plot.

Rayla felt a certain amount of vindication when Brock got his hands on Callum, but it was short lived. She didn’t have the heart to tell him ‘I told you so’, even in a teasing manner. Brock was great for banter, and today he was unusually quiet as he examined Callum’s wound. His few words and carefully schooled expression during the examination pricked at Rayla’s anxieties.

Brock looked like a pretty typical specimen of his people; tall and solidly built, amazingly dextrous, with a penchant for deep browns and rich golds in his attire. His braided hair had been dyed in golden streaks so that it continued the pattern of markings on his face, which resembled those of a badger. His hair was a dark brown, and his skin a mid- to light green, which made his marks stand out rather vividly. There was a saying in Xadia about healers, and about elves whose totem animals were badgers, which roughly translated into the Common Tongue read something along the lines of: _fear the tenacity of one who lives in the roots of the herbs_. In the original Earthblood dialect, the phrasing was ambiguous enough to be able to refer to both healers and to a badger’s set. Rayla used to wonder if it was just one of those sayings, like how there was a running joke about how Moonshadow elves were all stealthy sneaky warriors, when in reality most of them were pretty ordinary and worked simply to keep their communities running.

Then she met Brock, and realised what the saying really meant. She had run afoul of a badger once; messing around with her class mates, someone had accidentally fallen into the entrance of a set – it had ended with the lot of them running for the nearest climbable tree when the head of the badger family came to defend his territory. Rayla had been the last to clear the ground, having stayed behind to help someone with a lame leg, and then had to explain to Runaan why she came home so late with a nasty gash on the back of her leg and a mangled boot. Brock wasn’t overtly vicious, but there was something about the singlemindedness with which he approached his patients’ ailments that reminded her of that badger, who came to protect his home and family against intruders.

“Hmmm…” Brock said eventually, gently prodding specific areas of the scar tissue with extreme gentleness, and noting when Callum winced or drew in a steadying breath. “How long has this been getting worse?”

“Since last week?” Callum asked more than stated as fact. “It got noticeably worse yesterday.”

Brock quizzed him on the specific type of pain, when and where it arose, and tested Callum’s reflexes to see if it was impairing his nervous system. Rayla tuned most of that out and looked around the room while they spoke. It was a room in the hospital wing that had become known as the Healer’s Study, because Brock was a mage and therefore a healer as opposed to a medic, which was the equivalent human term. There was a pot of melodaisies in the brightest sunny corner, looking relatively bright and healthy, but drooping a bit and not making any music. There were books of every size, shape, colour and language strewn all over the place, and it grated on Rayla’s nerves. She could tell by the look on Callum’s face that it bothered him too when he glanced at the nearest chest of drawers. About a third of the drawers were pulled part way open, and had been left there so that they provided additional surfaces to stack more things on, the contents of the drawers themselves completely buried. That Brock got anything done in this mess seemed to be a miracle, but he was nonetheless productive.

Callum caught Rayla’s eye, and they exchanged exasperated smiles before looking away, so they didn’t start laughing. Callum was itching to bring some order to this chaos. He had tried it once before, when he had first got up from his sick bed after getting injured; Brock hadn’t been able to find anything for days afterward and it slowed his capacity to attend to his patients, so Callum kept his hands to himself thereafter whenever he was in the healer’s domain.

Brock asked Rayla for the exact list of ingredients she had used the night before, and she recited them to him while he banged around one of the cabinets. Callum just stared at the mess of bottles and books with a tired expression. His own rooms were just as messy, but there was a sense of order to it, and the mess was usually because he was working on a project that required many components to be laid out at once where he could see everything. Last year for his birthday, Rayla had given Callum some water colours (both paints and pencils); for six months straight, wherever he happened to be quartered, every flat surface had been covered with papers, brushes and pencils in neat piles according to whatever he had been working on at the time.

“I will keep the doors shut,” Brock said dryly, closing the cabinet with a flourish before balancing precariously on one foot to lean over and kick the sideboard closed as well. “As I know the mess offends you,”

Callum tried unsuccessfully to not look guilty, and then refused to look at Rayla because she was shaking her head over folded arms with a sardonic smile. Brock looked more amused than anything else, but his expression became serious again as he sat down in front of Callum with a new bottle of something that smelt sharp and bitter.

“Any headaches?”

“A bit. Mostly across the back of my neck,”

“A lot of paperwork?” Brock asked, and pressed his lips together when Callum rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You would be _amazed_ by how seriously some people take their crop rotation reports.”

Brock couldn’t keep himself from snorting with laughter. “I think you forget who you’re talking to.” He said comfortably. Brock was the eldest son of an Earthblood earl, and had chosen magic over bureaucracy; his family over saw a large stretch of land on which grew many orchards. Consequently, Brock had a lot of ideas whenever Callum needed some inspiration regarding agricultural problems in Katolis. “Hold still, this will sting like a hornet.”

Callum yelped as the cloth soaked in the unpleasant ointment was pressed against his skin, but he kept it together. Rayla winced in sympathy; she didn’t like seeing him in pain or discomfort, and she could tell by the set to his shoulders he was hurting a lot and was desperate not to show it.

“This stuff should drive off any infection,” Brock said slowly, pulling a face as Callum held his breath. “Sorry. I think we need to take the heavy-duty route now. It’s looking a bit worse for wear, I’ll grant you that, but I’m not _immediately_ concerned. Provided you take it easy,” his eyes narrowed, and Callum just gazed back defeatedly. “And that means no magic for a few days. Of _any_ description.”

Rayla couldn’t keep the snort of laughter under control, and Callum gave her a hard look. She spread her hands and smiled lopsidedly by way of an apology.

“Especially Sun magic,” Brock went on, prodding the very centre of the scar tissue. The damage was so severe that Callum had lost any sense of touch there. “I think that might aggravate it.”

Callum frowned – the kind of frown that meant he was gently shaking a series of half formed thoughts into a coherent sentence. “Do you think it _was_ mostly diverted Sunfire energy?”

The finer points of magic were lost on Rayla, but she knew enough to keep up with the conversation. She moved to sit on the table just behind Callum, taking care not to disturb a cluttered pile of scrolls. Brock frowned as he looked at the wound, tracing the edges of the discoloured skin and the web like pattern of scar tissue with his eyes. Rayla kept her expression completely neutral when Brock glanced at her; she couldn’t help but feel like the wound looked diseased whenever she looked at it. She knew about a dozen poisons that could elicit a similar colour to the resulting wound, which was why she had pressed Callum to get it seen to.

“I don’t know…Dark magic warps things in ways I am still struggling to understand.” Brock drew a small rune in the air in front of Callum, murmuring the trigger word, and pushed his right hand through it. He touched his fingers to Callum’s chest, and with his left-hand covered Callum’s eyes. They sat for a long moment in silence, breathing in time with each other. Eventually, Brock reached up to ruffle Callum’s hair after he released the spell, and gave him a weary smile. “I don’t think the necessity of Dark magic this year has helped, however noble a cause it may have been.” He smiled ruefully at Rayla, who stared back blankly to hide her snarled up bundle of emotions. “My concern is my patients’ well-being. Whatever components were used in its crafting, I _believe_ they were Sun related. And whatever end was intended for this spell, it seems to feed off of continued contact with Dark magic.”

“Well,” Rayla said bracingly, giving Callum’s arm a playful punch. “It’s a good thing he’s connected to all the Primal Sources then, isn’t it?”

Callum rolled his eyes again, and did a bad pantomime impression of her, which earned another smack and a head of mussed up hair. They had a good giggle about it while Brock shook his head and said, “Now, now, children.”

The earth mage set about writing a new prescription and gathering up a bunch of new ingredients. He then had to rummage around for a cloth bag to put everything in, because neither of them had brought a satchel. At the door, he gave Callum a searching look, before saying, “I know the High Council is busy at the moment, but if you _can_ find the time to rest, I suggest you do so. As much as possible.”

Callum just smiled tiredly. “I’ll try.”

Brock looked from Callum to Rayla, and pointed at the prince saying, “You try for him as well,” to which Rayla saluted.

“I’ll never get any rest, will I?” Callum lamented as they walked down the stairs to the main hall of the hospital wing. He was holding the new bottle of ointment and glowering at it.

“Aww, is my little mage prince feelin’ grumpy again?”

“Get off me,” Callum tried to dance sideways out of her reach – right into a suit of armour as they left the infirmary. He staggered away from the loud clanging sounds, grimacing and clutching his chest.

“Hey, he said _take it easy_ ,” Rayla told him firmly as she grabbed his hand.

“I _hate_ this stuff.” He griped. “It’s worse than the last one.”

Rayla cocked her head to one side before taking the bottle from him. She had a scratch on her left arm from yesterday that had drawn blood. She poured a couple of drops from the bottle onto her fingers and rubbed it into the wound. She yelped and shook her whole arm.

“Yikes! That doesn’t half smart,” she said conversationally. This stuff was _nasty_. And that came from someone who had managed to drop a whole bottle of Io Viper venom on her bare foot. One of the many times growing up that she thought Runaan was going to kill her simply to make his life easier…

“How do you think _I_ feel?” Callum grumbled, gesturing at the rather large surface area underneath his tunic that was covered in the offending ointment.

“Well if it were me, I’d be grumpier than a hangry Bait.” Rayla shook her hand again. “What is this? Distilled pain? Liquid agony?” she held her hand up for closer examination, pretending to look affronted. “Misery incarnate?!”

“Why don’t you just take a handful of salt and rub it in there while you’re at it?”

“Oh no,” Rayla wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. “I’m cruel, not evil. I’d use lemon juice,”

“ _Goodbye_ , Rayla.” Callum tried to storm off.

Maybe it was because it went against his nature to be angry for any length of time. Maybe it was because they loved each other too much for the gesture to sting. Whatever the reason, Callum wasn’t good at ‘storming’ in any direction (unless it expressly involved Sky magic). His grand exit culminated with him walking straight into Opeli as he tried to round the corner at speed, sending the scrolls in her arms to the floor. Rayla did her absolute and sincerest best to not smile as she hurried forward to help gather everything up while Callum stammered his apologies.

Opeli was a sharp woman past whom little could escape. She looked unimpressed, but she noted the careful way Callum held himself as he scrambled to get down to the floor, and the way Rayla hovered protectively by his side, trying to compensate for his restricted movement. As such, she was firm and polite to Callum and did not reprimand him for his carelessness. He looked deeply contrite, in any case, so she was willing to overlook his transgression.

Once she had her paperwork in order, Opeli bowed politely and excused herself from their presence. She did not look over her shoulder when Rayla started laughing, so she did not see Callum’s expression, but she had known the prince for so long that she could hazard a fair guess.

“Y’know what? I think I’ll bunk off trainin’ today.” Rayla said. “You _clearly_ can’t be trusted to get to the throne room in one piece.”

After a loud pause, Callum said in a sarcastic tone, “Thank you, Rayla, for that assessment. Now if you’re done beating up my ego-”

“Dummy,” Rayla snapped back. There was some scuffling that prompted Opeli to turn around and just check what was happening. She saw the pair of them walking away, Rayla with her arm wrapped firmly around his waist to keep him from tripping or falling. “You’re no use to Ez if you knock y’self out before you even arrive,”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself.” Callum snapped back at her.

“C’mon. I promised Ez I’d bring you back in one piece. Anythin’ stupid you do after you’re in the throne room is on _you_ ,”

Callum sighed dramatically. “Yes, ma’am.”

“There’s a good human,” Rayla simpered.

Opeli turned here to go down another corridor, and she glanced briefly in their direction. The young couple were looking each other dead in the eye, trying really hard not to burst out laughing. They both dissolved into giggles, trying to contain themselves, and Opeli continued on her way with a wry smile.

XOXO

The next few days felt like they dragged by at a painfully slow pace. Rayla griped to Callum about how it was no fun doing military work when everyone else was getting ready for a city wide party; Callum just wanted to curl up in a corner and study magic instead of deal with the constant barrage of requests and follow up questions from one of the more persistent viscounts. Ezran just kept his cards close to his chest, and simply smiled serenely when he was hiding his exasperation from the Court or the High Council. They didn’t manage to spend another evening together as a trio before the main festivities began, but they did manage to spend some time together in between duties and meetings. It was mostly just catching each other at the end of a corridor or walking together to their respective destinations, but it kept them all going.

Callum’s wound continued to hurt on and off, sometimes worse than others, but the new medicines seemed to be working well. The only people who noticed it was troubling Callum were those closest to him (and Brock whenever they crossed paths), and while Rayla sniped at him and Ezran just gave him that hard, Kingly kind of look their Dad used to give them when they were pushing his patience, Callum was grateful for their wordless understanding and support. Small things, like Rayla pretending to tackle him in the corridor and letting him lean heavily against her so that his wince of pain went unnoticed by the rest of the Council members who were watching. Ezran liked to offload Bait into Callum’s care and proclaim loudly that his familiar needed a Tart of Jelly, excusing his brother from whatever audience was seeking their attention, and allowing him some breathing space.

While he was happy the kingdom was safe and prospering, and joyfully gearing up to celebrate, he wished he could just slink into the shadows and go unnoticed for the next month. Part of the festivities was celebrating his more permanent residence in Katolis; he had spent years in Xadia learning magic, helping the fight against Aaravos, and most recently rescuing the elves that had been trapped in Viren’s coins. Aside from the Summit in the coming spring, Callum’s place was now back here in Katolis, and the kingdom couldn’t be happier or more proud of their Archmage and everything he had done on their behalf, and for the world at large.

Callum told Rayla over a rushed lunch one day it felt strange to have spent his childhood feeling so out of step with the rest of the castle – only now to find himself competent and capable, actually _good_ at all the princely duties that were expected of him, and how he didn’t enjoy the attention that came with it.

“I would have given anything to fit in like this when I was a kid. To be really _useful_ to the Crown,” he said ruefully, rolling an apple between his hands as they left the mess hall. “And now…” he smiled and shrugged to himself. “I realise how much I like _not_ being the centre of attention.”

“Grass is always greener?” she asked with a knowing smile, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close.

Callum smiled, and booped her on the nose when she tried to take a bite of his apple. Instead of fighting back, she chose to steal a long and lingering kiss as they prepared to parts ways, telling him quietly she had still won before she squeezed him and left for the training grounds. But for these small things, each little expression of love and reassurance, the knowledge that there was someone who understood him on every level, Callum might have gone completely crazy dealing with the different Councils that ran the government.

How Ezran had coped for so long on his own was a mystery to Callum. He did try to ask, but his brother batted the questions away with the same vague gestures and platitudes their Dad used to use, and turned the subject to something inoffensive and innocuous (or if he was feeling particularly mischievous, tried to petition Callum to sign off on his proposal for a National Jelly Tart Day). It went unspoken between them, because Callum had a feeling that Ezran didn’t want to place any more burdens on him, but they were both glad to have each other’s company again.

It felt a bit strange, and quite melancholy when he came back; he made plans to move after spending one night in his old room, missing Ezran a lot more than he had anticipated considering they had been separated for months on end before now. It was even stranger to spend evenings in the King’s chambers after dinner. They both felt weird about it, because it still felt like Harrow’s space, so they had started the habit of going to Callum’s rooms instead, where it felt more neutral and not heavily imbued with memories and meaning. It was made a lot easier when Rayla was around; not that Callum had the guts to tell her to her face, but in a lot of ways she was a bigger goof ball than the rest of them. It was nice to relive the easy companionship they had shared on the road together, here in this place.

It was even nicer to have the time to explore and deepen his relationship with Rayla, and a regular, stable schedule around which to plan with consistency, but still have the scope for spontaneity.

The night of that month’s full moon, Callum pushed the dining table in his rooms up against the adjacent wall so that the moonlight spilled across the floor underneath the bay window. He lit some incense, took the starry moon orchid, and lay down on the carpet with it so that he would catch the most light during the peak of the full moon. Rayla swung by for a surprise visit earlier on in the evening, and decided to join him for the night. Full moons usually made Moonshadow elves restless, so he was a bit dubious about Rayla taking part in the exercise at first. He had intended to lie there and meditate – something Rayla didn’t usually express any interest in doing.

Callum shifted over to make room in the wide patch of moonlight; they lay down on their backs, facing in opposite directions, but so that if they turned their heads they were nose to nose, looking each other right in the eye.

With all that had happened, and with all that continued to happen, the pair of them tried to set time aside at least once a month to spend just with each other; no distractions, no higher priorities – just the two of them. Callum liked to think that using the week of the full moon as a marker was romantic, but really it was just a practicality, since they were both aware of the lunar cycle on any given day, and it was a convenient way to measure time. They _were_ planning something for two days’ time, so tonight was unexpected and welcome. If you were chasing down renegade Archmages or wrestling with uncooperative politicians, you needed to be flexible with your scheduling, which was why they had chosen the week of the full moon instead of the day itself. So far, they had a very good track record for the exercise.

Tonight, Callum chose to take advantage of this turn of events and indulge in Rayla’s company instead of focus on his original task. He had been effectively banned from practising magic for a while, which was why he had been intending to just meditate, maybe sit in the Dream Space for a while when the pull of the moon would be at its strongest. They lay side by side, listening to each other breathe and waiting for the moon to reach its zenith. As it approached, Callum turned his head so he could look at Rayla; her eyes were closed, her face turned towards the light filtering through the window. For a long moment he just studied her: the line of her nose, the arch of her throat, the gentle curve of the marks under her eyes, the colour the moon made her skin glow…

Callum knew it read like a sappy list by the protagonist of an even sappier romance novel, but he didn’t care. And anyway, no one got to hear his silly declarations of love, except Rayla. He had sketched her from every angle, more times than he could count, and he never got tired of looking at her. It felt just a bit cliched, but as the moon reached its fullest, he broke the comfortable silence in the room.

“I love you.”

Rayla’s eyes fluttered open, and she slowly turned to look at him. He knew he had that silly smile on his face, judging by the ironic smile he got in return, as well as the gentle poke to his nose.

“I love you, too.” She kissed his lips, light and soft.

“Is that all I get?” he teased her, leaning forward a little in a vain attempt to follow.

Rayla’s answer was to stretch her arms high above her head, back arching off the floor, and showing off all of her finest features to greatest advantage.

So _that’s_ how she was playing it tonight…

“Mmm, I think it’s all you deserve. What with you bein’ a complete dummy this week and all…”

“I only fell over _once-_ ” he began, but didn’t get to finish his complaint. Rayla flipped onto her side and sprang in one lithe movement so that she landed astride his hips, hands planted firmly either side of his head so that he was hemmed in.

“I _could_ be convinced to reconsider…” she traced a finger over his lips. “For a price.”

“Let me guess, pledge my undying soul to Garlath’s Great Furnace?”

Rayla smiled crookedly. She caught one of his wandering hands, laced their fingers together, and pinned it to the floor high above his head. “No, you already did that last month. Let’s see, what to do, _what_ to _do_ …” her other hand caressed his face, and they leaned in to kiss each other. Callum tried to go for soft and gentle, but Rayla had other ideas. “You know, I think you could make a pledge to me instead.”

“What, we can’t have run out of Xadian deities already.”

Rayla leaned back enough to give him a playful shrug. “Do I count?”

Callum pretended to consider this before murmuring his assent, and trying to kiss her again, but she stayed just out of reach.

“So here’s _my_ proposition,” she tangled his other hand with hers, and pinned it next to his head, leaning in close. “You pledge yourself to me, here and now, and let me have my way with you until moonset.”

“And what does your devoted servant get in return?” Callum asked, eyes half closed and lips parted, trying to invite her in for another kiss.

“A trade.” Rayla explained, mimicking his expression just to wind him up because he couldn’t do anything about it from his position. “Tonight, I have you however I want. And the next time there’s a storm, you have me, however _you_ want.”

Callum didn’t want to admit how much of a turn on that proposition was. She probably knew already; he was an open book to her; it was hard to hide anything from someone who understood you so intimately.

“That’s a bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Callum asked, closing his eyes, and smiling when she pressed her lips to his, albeit briefly.

“ _Tell me_ you don’t enjoy makin’ love in the light of the full moon.”

“I do. I just think it’s a bit overdone. A Moonshadow elf making sweet, passionate love with her partner when her arcanum is at its strongest.”

Rayla gave him a crooked smile and took his bottom lip between her teeth. “Says the guy who painted me with Sky runes and had me against the cave wall durin’ that storm in the Epsilon Mountains…”

The memory of that night sent a pleasant shiver down Callum’s spine. He had no justification or defence to offer for that. “Why do you put up with me?” he was going for a deep and sexy tone, but it ended in a groan when Rayla started rocking her hips against him.

“I’ve got to be honest, it’s mostly for the sex.” She bit his neck.

“If I’m the only person who you’ve slept with, how do you know I’m any good?”

After an exaggerated sigh, she said “Well, put it this way. You’re the only person who ever caught m’interest. And,” she bit his collar bone. “Let’s be brutally honest with each other. What other dumb sucker’s gonna put up with _me_?”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.” Callum told her, enjoying the feel of her nose brushing against his as he tried to entice her in for another kiss. He hissed pleasantly as she made a low, deliberate pass against him with her hips.

“I think you should just be aroused.” She drew back a little so he could clearly see her face, and gave him a lopsided smile. “Hey, is that a Sunforge blade in your pocket?” she swooped down so that their faces were pressed together, and gave his lips a small and chaste kiss. “Or are you just pleased to see me?” she breathed.

Callum dissolved into soft, breathless giggles, and Rayla joined in, her brow leaning against his.

“You are _so_ corny…”

“So, are you gonna to take me or what?”

“Err.” Callum flexed his fingers, still tangled with her own. “I can’t exactly wrestle you from here. And if I did you’d smack me for ‘over exerting’ myself.” He just about managed to make quotation marks for emphasis.

“Oh, c’mon. Is the first Human Archmage goin’ down without a fight?!”

Callum gave her a small smirk. “If it means you’ll take me to bed and make me scream for mercy twice, then yes. Yes I am.”

Rayla growled and squeezed his hands. “ _Damn_ you.” She hissed.

“I know how to make a girl blush,” Callum teased, taking the opportunity to retaliate against her hips.

“You certainly know how to make a girl wet,” Rayla laughed at his blush and the cringe that went with it. “Ohh, how many years has it been? And you _still_ get embarrassed at the word _wet_ ,”

“Do you _have_ to be so crass?” Callum grumbled avoiding her gaze, ears burning. Being a romantic at heart, he liked using delicate, flowery language to describe their sexual encounters. Rayla, on the other hand, still had all the subtlety and elegance of an avalanche.

She arched an eyebrow at him, taking in the sight of him pinned to the floor underneath her, awash with the moonlight coming in through the window. “Bit rich comin’ from the guy who let me manoeuvre him into this position in the first place. What would you have me say instead?”

“Rayla,” Callum gave her an expression torn somewhere between amusement, exasperation, and longing. “Are you going to be pedantic all night, or are you going to take me? The moon isn’t going to wait for you.”

“Well,” she let go of the hand closest to his face so she could touch his cheek. His freed hand returned the gesture before going to rest comfortably on her hip. “When you put it like _that_ …”

“I just have one request.”

“What?”

Callum smiled impishly. “Foreplay? We haven’t really been indulgent recently…”

Rayla groaned with exaggerated exasperation, and he almost laughed. Callum got off on Rayla’s pleasure, and he loved indulging in it as often as possible. Rayla didn’t always have the patience to sit still and wait for him to be satisfied before moving to the main event, so to speak. It often led to rather amusing arguments that just went round and round in circles; she wanted to sprint to the finish line, he wanted to run a marathon, and between them they had to work out a comfortable compromise.

“I thought human males were supposed to be crazy and wild fiends. _How_ did I end up beddin’ the only one who isn’t?”

“Hey.” Callum puffed up with as much indignation as his current position would allow and pinched her waist. “You don’t complain when you’re on the receiving end.”

Rayla let go of his other hand and sat back on his hips, the fingers of one hand on her temple, the other hand resting on his stomach. After a long pause, she asked, “ _Why_ do we keep having this argument?”

Callum laughed breathlessly. There were times where he still couldn’t quite believe all the blessings in his life, was almost too afraid to count them. His little brother was doing a fantastic job as king, he had a purpose in life he had carved out for himself, there was a _real_ chance for true peace in the world; and he was in a stable, committed, romantic relationship with his best friend. It felt a bit silly to admit this, even to himself, but he really enjoyed the stupid stuff they did, the daft arguments they had, the inane and childish ways they tried to wind each other up.

“I have an idea,” he said in a low voice that caught Rayla’s attention instantly.

“Oh yeah?” she leaned forward a little, taking great care to shift her weight as she went, hand sliding up his chest. “What’s that, mage boy?”

Callum linked his fingers together and cushioned them under his head. He tilted his chin so that he was looking directly at the moon. “We make use of the moon while it’s full, and argue about the finer points of sexual gratification later.” Rayla started moving forward slowly and deliberately, shifting her weight again so that their legs were straight and aligned with each other, and came to rest just above him, lips so agonizingly close to his. “We can skip the foreplay tonight, on one condition.” He tapped her nose. “The next time there’s a storm, whatever you’re doing, you _stop_ , and come to my bed. And I have free rein to indulge in you as much as I like.”

Rayla’s gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips as she considered his proposition. “Deal,” she murmured before she bent down and kissed him deeply.

The situation was rapidly escalating, when the stabbing pains started. Callum’s chest had been aching all day, but he had been managing to keep it under control. It had been far worse than this before, but it was getting harder to ignore or supress. He gasped, breathless from pain more than from what Rayla’s hands were doing – and she turned her full attention to his expression.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” he gave her a smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace. “I’m great,”

Rayla frowned, her expression dispassionate and calculating. He was afraid she was going to insist on stopping for the night. “Get up,” she said eventually, patting his cheek, and Callum sighed with defeat. “Up,” she repeated once she was standing.

Reluctantly, Callum took her proffered hand and let her help him to his feet. She put a hand over his heart, very gently touching the scars through his shirt before she kissed his mouth again. Then she slid the buttons apart so she could look at the wound, assess the damage. He had been taking the new medicines diligently, and they had helped in that his conditioned hadn’t worsened – but Callum couldn’t say that it had markedly improved, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.

“Oh, don’t worry.” She gave his bottom lip a nip. “I’m still gonna make you scream and beg for mercy twice. I’m just goin’ to do it from the comfort of the bed.”

“Aww, we’re not going to make sweet love in the moonlight?” Callum pouted theatrically, overtly pleased with her assessment.

“Callum,” she searched his face for a long moment before gently stroking his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, pressing a kiss against the heel of her palm. “I love you. And I trust you with my life.” She slid her arms up and around his neck, giving him a brief kiss before adding simply, “I just don’t trust you with yours.”

“You are infuriating.” He pretended to sound annoyed, but really, he was deeply flattered.

“How d’ye think _I_ feel?” she nodded towards the door of the bedroom. “Get your arse in bed,”

Much later, they were curled up in each other’s arms, sleepy and warm and just enjoying each other’s company. Callum drifted in and out of consciousness for a while before he finally fell fast asleep, snuggled up against Rayla with her fingers in his hair. His chest continued to twinge and ache, but his dreams were deep, formless things that didn’t stick in his memory at all by the time the morning came, for which he was grateful.

XOXO

A day before the festivities were set to start, Ezran bounced into Callum’s study with a resounding crash that made his older brother jump out of his skin. Rayla, who had heard the King coming a mile off, just raised an eyebrow as she continued to twirl her swords around out of boredom.

“Can I _help_ you?” Callum grouched as he looked up from the paperwork he had been attending to, which now had a massive jagged line of ink scrawled across it. He rubbed at his chest with a barely concealed wince.

“Lady Jila’s back!” Ezran exclaimed happily.

Callum blinked for a moment, and then his face split into a wide smile. “Really?”

“They just got back! Corvus said they’ll meet us in the throne room. I thought you’d like to come and greet them,”

Callum dropped his pen and got out of the seat in one easy motion. Rayla still noted the way his hand went to his chest again, trying too late to pass it off as simply adjusting his scarf. He caught her staring and calmly met her gaze, refusing to back down when she scowled at him.

They had already argued about it once today – there was nothing else left to say on the matter, except to trade insults.

“Err…” Ezran looked from one to the other. “Did you two have a fight?”

“It’s nothing.” Callum said glibly, shouldering the door open and striding into the corridor.

Rayla made a gesture at his retreating back, like she was trying to strangle him, and Ezran chuckled under his breath before asking with a more serious expression, “Is it getting worse?”

Sighing, Rayla slid off the workbench and stood beside Ezran. “No worse than last week. I think.”

Ezran’s face crumpled with concern, and he carefully schooled his expression when Callum grabbed the lintel of the door and swung back over the threshold at an angle.

“You coming or what?”

To try and break the silence stretched between them as they walked together down the corridor, Rayla asked, “So who’s Jila, again?” She knew she recognised the name, but didn’t have a face to put to it.

“Her late husband was friends with our Dad.” Ezran piped up, glad to have a distraction.

“She’s one of Katolis’ best diplomats. Their family has been abroad smoothing over consular problems for…” he paused to count on his fingers. “Nearly ten years?” he looked to Ezran, who shrugged broadly. “Lady Jila’s the one who chaired the initial meetings with Neolandia after the battle at the Storm Spire. They were in Duren at the time, and she kept the situation from escalating until Ezran got back.”

“Her daughter Adila’s already asked to be on the delegate committee for the Summit next year.” Ezran added.

Rayla frowned to herself as she tried to piece fragments of long passed conversations into context. “Is this the family with the twins who are a year older than you? Who had the riding accident and who Soren had a massive crush on?” she asked Callum.

“Yup.” He said brightly. “Except he was crushing on the older sister, Adila.”

Ezran laughed at his best Crownguard’s expense. “It’ll be so good to see them again!”

“You just want to laud it over everyone how tall you are,” Callum sighed as he sprang forth ahead of them, Bait bouncing in his arms.

“He can’t get much taller than that,” Rayla added in an undertone, and poked Callum when he groaned.

“For context,” he said, jabbing a finger at the King’s retreating back. “His grandfather was six foot eight.”

“Well shit.” Rayla said simply. She couldn’t even claim that her horns counted anymore, the git had grown so much.

“I am doomed to be the shortest one on the Council.” Callum lamented melodramatically, enjoying the way Rayla grinned at his expense. Determining who was tallest varied depending on who you asked. Humans generally maintained that horns didn’t count; for elves it was a fairly even split, usually depending on what was most convenient for the given argument. Of course, Rayla maintained that they _did_ count, and Callum was usually too exasperated to keep arguing the point. If horns could be proven irrefutably to _not_ count, he’d be a fraction of a few inches taller than her. He had yet to produce such evidences to her satisfaction, so the argument continued.

“Don’t be silly.” Ezran said brightly over his shoulder. “When Lady Miriam takes over the record keeping, _she’ll_ be the shortest!”

“Ez.” Callum said flatly. “First of all, she’s in a wheel chair. Second of all, _that’s not funny_ ,”

“Yeah it is,” Ezran and Rayla sniggered together. He ran back down the corridor and gave her a double high-four with a peal of laughter while Callum just despaired over them.

“C’mon,” Rayla gave him a dig in the ribs. “Miriam thinks it’s funny.”

The woman in question was pretty hilarious; she proclaimed the floor of the castle that she was mostly restricted to as her own personal fiefdom, and she traded her time and skills for gossip and treats swiped from the kitchens. Rayla rather liked her – she was one of the few people who openly joked about her horns. She also never took her jokes back, even if she offended someone; she wasn’t above apologising, but she owned the responsibility for her actions, and Rayla respected her for it. Miriam was also fantastically good at taking notes, organising paperwork and dealing with disgruntled courtiers, so she was at the top of the list to replace the current Record Keeper when he retired next year. The only issue was figuring out how best to accommodate her wheelchair, and potentially uproot her life from the third floor down to where most of the Council meetings took place in the throne room.

Callum just sighed heavily. “You two are a nightmare,”

“Okay. Just say the word and I’ll piss off back to Xadia.” Rayla offered, gesturing carelessly over her shoulder and smirking at the exaggerated puppy dog eyes Callum turned on her. “Oh, how could I _ever_ say no to that face?” she simpered, taking said face between her hands and squeezing him.

“You do it all the time,”

“I know.” She agreed, unrepentant as she kissed his nose.

He gave her that look she loved: torn between affection and exasperation, and she tackled him into a shadowy alcove where she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his mouth. She wasn’t prepared to say so out loud, but she couldn’t wait for that storm to brew up. They had spent their monthly date, two days after the full moon; a picnic down by the river, enjoying the warmth of the season while it lasted – all very innocent and proper and chaste. Callum was probably right about her being a sex fiend; much as she had enjoyed the afternoon, she couldn’t stop thinking about wanting him, and they both annoyingly had had duties to return to.

“Can you two snog each other later?” Ezran groaned.

Rayla grinned and made a more exaggerated attack on Callum’s lips; he squeaked because he wasn’t expecting it, and she chuckled at his expense.

“Argh!” Ezran scowled. “I’ll go greet them without you!” he warned.

Rayla let Callum go and shoved him in the right direction with an elaborate bow. “Off you go, then. Your King awaits you.” Callum had that dazed look on his face, and she knew his heartbeat was fast and loud. She liked that, after all these years, she still had that effect on him, and the more time that elapsed, the more potent the effect seemingly became. She knew it probably wasn’t a healthy mindset to have, but for someone who feared rejection and abandonment, it was comforting.

“You two are disgusting,” Ezran scoffed as he stumped along the corridor in a huff.

“No one asked you to watch,” Callum sniped back.

“No one asked you to have sex in the middle of the hallway,” Ezran snapped.

“Boys,” Rayla said in a mockingly stern tone. “Do I have to separate you?”

Ezran gave her a dull look over his shoulder, and pulled himself straight and upright. She knew he was dying to say something like ‘Go separate yourselves!’ or maybe ‘You can’t tell _me_ what to do!’, but refrained from doing so. It was cute that he didn’t exercise his authority over her – but that meant Callum bore the brunt of his mood swings. He was still the sweet, kind-hearted boy she had first met within these walls, but he was also a teenager. It was easy to forgive him his mood swings, in part because he was so young and so laden with responsibilities, but mostly because he was Ezran.

They were all quiet for the rest of the journey to the throne room. By the time they got there, Ezran had got over his sullen mood and practically bounced over the threshold. Rayla still felt incredibly out of place here, doing this sort of thing, but she had agreed to return to Katolis with Callum and to be a ‘diplomat’ (in the loosest possible terms, as Soren liked to remind her constantly). So she squared her shoulders and set her stance before following Callum into the throne room. She caught Jenny standing off to the side with a bunch of other soldiers she knew, who all gave her some variation of a knowing smirk, seeing the way she held herself differently here compared to the training grounds, or up on the battlements, and thoroughly enjoying her discomfort because that’s how you showed affection in the army. Rayla gave them a flat and unimpressed look, staring at Jenny pointedly who smiled sycophantically back, before she turned her attention to Ezran.

There were six people arranged by the planning table, one of whom was sitting on a chair. The young woman got up stiffly with some help from a guy who bore a striking resemblance to her as Ezran released the older woman from his embrace with a happy laugh.

“It’s so good to see you again!” he was saying, giving her hands a squeeze.

Lady Jila smiled politely and dipped into a curtsey. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you, King Ezran.” She had fair skin, a heart shaped face, and long strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a typical Katolian braid. When she turned to Callum, her smiled deepened, and she embraced him too. “Oh, it’s so good to see you both again,”

Beaming, Callum took a step back and introduced Rayla. The two of them sized each other up subtly before Rayla sank into a polite bow first. Jila reciprocated the gesture, and once they had both straightened up Rayla noted the frank curiosity in the woman’s face – neither judging nor condemning, just interested.

Someone laughed, and Callum turned towards the person who had been sitting down. Rayla guessed she was the one who had had the riding accident; her gait was uneven, and she showed a lot of generalised signs of hiding pain or discomfort as she stepped towards Callum. He compensated by taking most of her weight and angling it away from her right leg, and his first words to her were, “Is your leg okay?”

She leaned back and gave him an amused look. In a careful tone she said, “Been better. Been worse. The long ride back didn’t help.”

Callum turned to Rayla again with a smile, still supporting her. “Ariadne, may I introduce Lady Rayla of The Silvergrove!” he grinned when she shot him an amused look.

Ariadne tried to bow, hampered by Callum’s arm around her shoulders. She paused, and gave him a long-suffering look, to which he smiled sheepishly and gently let go, taking an exaggerated step back. “Sorry, sorry,”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she said, then reconsidered as she took in his stature. “Except in height.” She turned back to Rayla a little lopsidedly and bowed. She tried to make the movement formal and fluid, but the motion came out stiff and jerky. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Rayla dipped her head again in acknowledgement. She observed dispassionately how the old injury affected her movement, unconsciously cataloguing the information out of reflex. She made it her business to vet people who came near Callum and Ezran – an unfortunate habit she couldn’t bring herself to outgrow, because just in case. Not that Rayla thought it likely that a family of high-ranking diplomats would or could cause them harm, let alone an invalid with obviously constrained mobility.

Ariadne looked a lot like her mother, except for a smattering of freckles across her nose, her eyes were slate grey, and her hair was dark blonde; there was some restricted movement in her right arm as well, but it looked more like muscle wasting than a traumatic injury like her leg. The young man behind her who made a beeline for Callum was probably the twin brother, who looked eerily identical to his sister with the exception of his lighter hair colour.

“Callum!”

“Seb-!” Callum yelped when he was pulled into a bone crushing hug, and winced visibly as the wound on his chest was jostled painfully. Rayla resisted the urge to swoop in and pluck him out of harm’s way. Clearly, Ariadne noticed as well, and she poked him hard between his shoulder blades to get his attention. Seb let go, turning towards his sister with concern, not seeing the look on Callum’s face as he gingerly rubbed over his heart.

Once Callum was recovered, Seb said, “It’s been so long! So much has changed,”

“It certainly has,” Callum agreed, smiling tiredly at Rayla, who smiled vaguely back to hide her concern for him. She would far rather he wasn’t here dealing with this right now, given the hunch to his shoulders and the way he cradled the scars.

“So, I heard you got yourself an elven girlfriend,” Seb said conspiratorially, leaning in the way Soren might do when he was being annoying.

Ariadne’s gaze so very casually turned from Seb to Rayla, and then back again slowly, expression fixed in place. She had clearly fit the pieces together, and her reaction was rather difficult to gauge. Rayla decided she needed to watch more closely for a longer period of time to suss this one out.

“Err,” Callum blinked, flustered. “Yes, yes I did.”

“Go on, _do_ tell,” Seb said with a wicked edge to his smile. He reminded Rayla of a younger, less emotionally mature Soren – and she knew how to handle that.

Smiling brightly, Rayla stepped forward and held out her hand to Seb. He smiled back a little uncertainly, and jumped when she shook his hand firmly, staring at her conspicuous four digits before looking up to her head, and gulping visibly.

“Hi. I’m Rayla, the elven girlfriend. A pleasure to meet you, Seb.”

Rayla was still making up her mind about them, but Ariadne warmed herself towards the elf by putting a hand over her mouth and stifling a snort of laughter at her brother’s expense. Behind Lady Jila, Ezran had been talking to the third sibling, who now leaned around her mother to see what was going on. Adila had blue eyes like Jila, darker hair like her sister, and a more angular face with noticeably darker skin; she was arching an eyebrow quizzically.

“We almost made it to ten minutes without a diplomatic incident.” She stated simply, and Ezran giggled.

“Adila,” her mother admonished.

“I…do beg your pardon.” Seb offered contritely, bowing his head. When he came up again he glanced towards Ariadne, who was schooling herself into something calm, serene, and definitely not laughing at his expense.

Seb scuttled off at the first opportunity, getting involved with the Council members so he didn’t have to stick around and wallow in his embarrassment.

“So no change there, then.” Callum said amicably to Ariadne.

She inhaled deeply, seemingly to keep from laughing, and when she next spoke it was with that tone of voice Rayla associated with Court proceedings, except very facetious. “Still attempting a civilian impersonation of Soren.” She paused, and the amusement bled into her expression. “And failing spectacularly.”

They shared a laugh, and Callum touched her shoulder when she staggered a little. She was quite tired after the long journey to the castle, and it was getting harder to stay standing. “Are you sure your leg is okay?”

“Yeah,” she waved the question away far more casually than was really proper for the situation, with so many Council members floating around the room, and the King about seven paces away. “It’s just fatigue. I’m fine.” It sounded more like a deflection than a reassurance.

Rayla was still trying to figure the lot of them out when Ezran politely asked them if they all wanted to come to his Study for some tea and to discuss things, which was the polite and politic thing to do in these situations. Knowing she had lost Callum for the rest of the day, Rayla gave his hand a squeeze and resigned herself to whatever Amaya could conjure up for her that afternoon. He smiled, and gave her a quick kiss as he squeezed back, and promised to see her later. She reluctantly let go and took a step back so that Callum could follow the rest of them towards the doors.

Ariadne turned to him, spinning on her left leg as she went. “He’s so _tall_ ,” she said in a stage whisper, jabbing a thumb in Ezran’s direction.

“I know,” Callum said fondly, watching his not so little brother all but bounce towards the double doors with barely contained delight.

Rayla got the distinct impression that Ariadne was deliberating over something as she looked Callum up and down, but whatever it was, she ultimately decided to remain quiet. Turning towards the sound of voices in the corner of the hall, Rayla’s gaze met that of Lord Karim, who gave her a warm smile. He was a senior member of the High Council, and had been initially sceptical and cautious of brokering a Truce with Xadia, but he had openly admitted in front of a large gathering of people that he trusted Rayla to act in the King and Prince’s best interests, so she was relatively comfortable around him. He bowed politely and ducked out of her way, and Rayla half wished he hadn’t because Jenny took the opening to saunter over and place her halberd in a position where she could hang off the weapon at a jaunty angle and smirk at the elf.

“And _you_ want?” Rayla asked rudely, suddenly very aware of her own accent.

“To laugh.” Jenny grinned. “Because that was _hilarious_ ,”

She allowed herself a smirk before she slid her foot over to kick at the end of the halberd and try to knock Jenny’s balance. It didn’t work because Jenny was used to such antics and because Rayla’s heart wasn’t in it to cause grievous bodily harm today. Clearly, the woman had noticed that Rayla was at a loose end now, because she then asked, “You got any plans this afternoon?”

“Whatever the General wants to torture me with,” Rayla said flippantly. She would have preferred to spend it with Callum ahead of all the excitement and attention he would be receiving tomorrow, but he was now engaged with more diplomatic matters.

Jenny gestured over her shoulder with her chin. “Come on patrol with us. We could use the company,”

The others either nodded or smiled welcomingly, so she took them up on the offer.

Rayla reflected to herself, a few hours later after the patrol had ended and they were heading towards the mess hall for food, that despite the variety and diversity of people in the military, there was a shared mentality amongst the soldiers. There were arguments, people bickered and disagreed, but they were still a cohesive force – and she felt accepted amongst their ranks for the most part. It helped that Amaya approved of her, and people like Gren, Soren and Marcos were fond of her. Respected and high-ranking officers being friendly with a Moonshadow elf made her appear less threatening and more approachable to the rest of the army, by and large. Rayla still got a lot of strange and sometimes fearful looks, but there were enough people around that she trusted and who in turn trusted her. It felt kind of nice in a way, to feel comfortable surrounded by humans like these idiots, away from Callum or Ezran. Hanging out with people like Jenny made it easier to cope with the fact that there were a lot of people who didn’t like her and didn’t like her being around the Castle, let alone the King.

Rayla didn’t like spending her time thinking, as a rule, but musing to herself about the friendships she had built here stopped her from thinking about her family and the Silvergrove, so she indulged herself. The more time that passed, the more she felt at home here, and the fewer instances of hostility she encountered over all.

They grabbed their food and found a relatively empty table to pile onto. Marcos looked up to give Rayla a beleaguered smile over his stew, and sighed when she poked him. “I’m on the late shift,” was all he would say, and gladly joined in when the conversation turned to the week’s festivities.

Everyone was excited, especially since the rotas had been fixed so that everyone would have enough time off duty to have fun. As much as she could feel the sense of national pride, Rayla couldn’t help but feel like more than a few of the soldiers in the hall were more looking forward to the chance to get uproariously drunk than anything else.

“Looking forward to anything in particular?” Jenny asked, giving her a dig in the ribs that Rayla couldn’t be bothered to deflect. She leaned back reflexively just in case Rayla retaliated, long dark hair falling out of the careful, regulation plait so she had to reach up to fix it.

“Eh.” Rayla put on a flippant air and poked at her stew. “I mean, the food here’s good and all, but _nothin_ ’ beats a good moonberry surprise,” that earned her a eyeroll that rolled Jenny’s whole head, and she smirked in response.

“That’s like the third time this week you’ve mentioned this thing.” One of the newest recruits called out over the noise of the table so that Rayla couldn’t miss him. “What the hell is a moonberry surprise?”

She turned to look at him. It was Luke, Lucas, something like that – one of the few newbies who seemed to be completely unafraid of her. He had the most nondescript, forgettable looking face with blue eyes and blonde hair he had deliberately spiked up before entering the mess hall. Amaya had tasked her with knocking some sense into him, something she had yet to act on because she kept bumping into him under these kinds of circumstances – the kind where attacking him would look really bad and cause Callum a massive headache. He only ever seemed to want to talk to her off the training grounds, hence why she hadn’t knocked him over yet. He was well meaning enough, if completely oblivious, to the point where no one quite understood _why_ he had joined the army.

Rayla was about to speak, when Jenny started sniggering. She gave the woman and almighty dig in the ribs, which just made her cackle even more. She just loved watching Rayla suffer in silence for the sake of diplomacy. Everyone in the military had a warped sense of humour – probably why Rayla fitted in as well as she did.

“It’s a dessert.” She said simply, turning her attention to her food.

“Yeah, but, _what_ kind of dessert?” the guy pressed, leaning over the table and across someone’s plate.

“Dude, seriously?!” he scowled, giving the younger man a shove.

“Guys,” Commander Marcos raised his voice without lifting his gaze from his bowl, and the lot of them settled down reflexively.

Except for Luca. Whatever his name was. He leaned as best he could around the soldier next to him, who threw his hands up in the air with a sigh and stabbed at his plate.

“Well?”

“The kind with berries in it.” Rayla said innocently, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

Jenny had to have cracked a couple of ribs by now. She had gone silent, but her shaking arms and untouched bowl gave her away.

“Why won’t you answer my questions?” he pressed.

“Lay off,” his neighbour said with a sigh.

“I did,” Rayla said, smiling in the guy’s direction blandly. Usually Callum was the only one dense enough to indulge her in this kind of game. That was fun, but this was mildly annoying – Callum only pretended to be stupid, this guy was something else entirely.

He opened his mouth again, brow drawn into a frown, when a woman further down the table said loudly, “Luke, just drop it.”

So she had been right the first time around.

“Yeah, but-”

“Take a hint and leave her to eat in peace.”

Luke pulled a face and went back to his food, ignoring everyone (to their united relief). On Marcos’ other side, someone said aloud, “For fuck sake…”

Rayla put her face in her hand and leaned her elbow heavily on the tabletop. The kind of slouch that would make Runaan complain at her until she straightened her posture out. It made it a lot easier to hide her smile as she watched the other people around the table react to the situation. Luke was getting some annoyed looks that he was doing his best to ignore; Marcos was losing his will to live again; Jenny was about to expire from a punctured lung by the look on her face.

“You gettin’ any time off this month?” Rayla asked Marcos as he finished eating and got ready to leave.

He smiled at her tiredly. “After the festivities. I get a whole two weeks off,”

Rayla wanted to say he looked like he could do with the holiday, but felt it might not be appropriate to draw attention to his obvious fatigue, so she gave him a vague look instead.

“Behave,” Marcos told the rest of them as he got up to leave.

“Sir!” Jenny struck a salute, and almost toppled out of her seat because her neighbour on her other side went for her, and the guy opposite kicked her feet under the table.

“What did I just say?” Marcos barked as Rayla nonchalantly reached a hand out to grab her before she could hit the floor, yanking her back onto the bench.

“Fuck you, Benjamin.” Jenny said pleasantly, settling down to eat again like nothing had happened.

“Fuck off, only my mother calls me that.” Ben snapped back.

As tempting as it was to slip an insult in there, someone beat Rayla to it.

“N’aww, has little Benjamina’s gruntle been dissed?” someone simpered, and he turned to glare at the culprit, who was looking decidedly less brave now than when she had started.

“I’d go before you’re held responsible for them.” Rayla said to Marcos, who sighed heavily. He cuffed her round the back of the head with his elbow as he went, and she swore pleasantly at him in a very obscure Xadian dialect to make doubly sure no one knew what she was actually saying.

As much as she was grateful for, and had indeed enjoyed their company this afternoon, Rayla was getting restless. She liked her solitude, and she had been around very loud and boisterous people for several hours now. As much as she appreciated them, she needed a break.

That was the moment when Soren came off duty, saw her at the table as Marcos was walking away, and made a beeline for her. He loomed over her with that stupid grin on his face, and she scowled up at him, swearing by way of a greeting.

“How’s my favourite Moonshadow elf?” Soren asked as he took up Marcos’ place. If he noticed the sudden exchange of looks around the table at his choice of words, he showed no sign of it.

“Contemplatin’ how aerodynamic this bowl is,” she said casually, handling it like she was going to throw it at him.

“C’mon, you can do better than that.” Jenny chided her.

“I dunno, wooden bowls make excellent weapons if y’know how to handle them right.” Rayla mused to herself. They made for poor chakrams, but you could still do a lot of damage if you were in a tight spot and knew _just_ which angle to throw them at.

“And what’s put _you_ in a foul mood?” Soren asked brightly.

Rayla would have loved to smack him upside the head, but there were too many witnesses. Punching her friends in jest on the training grounds was one thing, but attacking one of the King’s personal guard at the dinner table was another. Again, _diplomacy_. Everything she did reflected on Xadia, and worse on Callum and Ezran. Hilarities aside, she didn’t want to let either of them down. And Soren, smug bastard that he was, _knew_ it.

“You’re stupid face appearin’ in m’field of vision.” She said bluntly, going to mop up the rest of her stew with a piece of bread.

“And suddenly,” said one of the soldiers, an older hand called Mattrim who everyone liked because he never passed judgement and always gave good advice about weapons maintenance. “This conversation feels vastly above my pay grade.”

There was a smattering of nervous laughter before Soren said, “That’s okay, we’ll clean up the blood afterwards.”

“Always assumin’ I don’t obliterate you the first time round,” Rayla sniped back.

“What are you like?” Jenny asked with a sigh, throwing a dramatic gesture.

“Horny. That’s what she’s like.” Soren said unconcernedly, stuffing his face with food.

Silence descended over the table, and Rayla fixed him with a steely gaze. He had that same smile he’d had at the Moon Nexus, just after they had first met; he had been stuffing his face with food then, too. Leaning back in her seat, Rayla folded her hands together and contemplated her fingers; speaking in a Xadian dialect, she stated, “I _will_ kill you.”

“Keep on dreamin’, bitch.” Soren countered in the same tongue, colloquialisms and all, still unconcerned.

It amused Rayla to see the others looking at Soren with just as much amazement as they might look at her. A Grownguard – _Soren_ , no less – speaking in fluent Elven was apparently a big surprise. For his part, Soren lifted his gaze and smiled sycophantically at the onlookers.

“This stew is just the _best_ , ain’t it?” he shot Rayla an amused grin, and she just shook her head while holding his gaze, smiling sardonically.

XOXO

Katolis had something of a reputation within the Pentarchy. It was commonly held that Katolis had the best army in terms of equipment and discipline, and it was believed that this mentality bled into civilian life. While not strictly true, there was certainly an order by which communities built themselves, certain rules and protocols that were adhered to that kept the kingdom running smoothly.

And then there were festivals.

If there was one thing Katolians loved, it was frivolity. That involved a lot of music and dancing whenever they could get away with it, and this was a week full of such merriment. Things in the Castle were certainly more stiff and formal, and Rayla really enjoyed the excursion she went on with the others into the capital itself. While out she found Marcos just as he came off duty, so the pair of them went off and got really drunk together, so that they returned to the barracks arm in arm and singing some nonsense that was half way between Katolian and a Sunfire dialect. Amaya was pissed off with the pair of them for their conduct, but she found it rather amusing on a personal level, so they got off with a warning to never make an exhibition of themselves like that again or there would be formal punishment. It would be months before Soren let Rayla live it down, but the reprimand and the resulting headache the following morning were both so worth it to have felt so free and unrestrained, surrounded by her human friends.

Then there were the formal meets and greets she had to attend with Callum and Ezran – those were infinitely less fun and involved minimal dancing. She had to wear formal clothes and smile blandly at people she didn’t know and follow all kinds of etiquette rules that Callum could never adequately explain the purpose behind. Running rampant in the marketplace, climbing trees and shouting at the other soldiers while they all got increasingly more drunk was infinitely more fun. For one thing, with the army she was just another soldier – a strange and exotic oddity, but nonetheless a soldier, a warrior, an _equal_. Floating around a hall full of diplomats and government officials, as well as the occasional visiting royal, Rayla felt like a fish out of water. Try as she might during these functions, she couldn’t stay too close to Callum or Ezran; there was always _someone_ clamouring for their attention or needing to speak to them about a private matter. And with the only soldiers present being on duty for security detail, Rayla generally had no one to talk to in the meantime.

In short, she hated being there and only put up with it because ‘diplomacy’. And because it helped smooth over political relations and made her friends’ lives easier. Callum, bless him, tried his best to keep her in the loop and engage with her in conversation as much as possible – but he had a lot of important duties that he couldn’t put on hold, not for anyone.

By the end of the fourth day (after she had fully recovered from her hang over) Rayla found herself sequestered in a corner of the throne room, waiting for Callum to detangle himself from a lengthy conversation about crops with her least favourite viscount. She was standing with Amaya and Brock, and another visiting Xadian from a coastal tribe of the Tidebound elves. Her name was Serena, and like Brock she was a healer, though she specialised in the art of acupuncture. She was rather tall and incredibly curvy in build, accentuated by the tunic she wore in gentle waves of grey silk that complemented the pale blue of her skin.

Next to Serena, Rayla felt even more thin and sharp than usual. She wore the cleanest, most utilitarian fancy clothes she could get away with: all dark greens with sparing silver embroidery and loose enough that she could easily fight if need be. She scowled at Amaya’s smirk and tried to remember what little she knew of Lux Aurean Sign Language so she could swear at her discreetly.

“Feel pretty?” Amaya signed, and Rayla glowered back mutinously. She gave Gren a hard look when he tried not to laugh.

“You get used to these functions after a while.” He reassured her, and just smiled and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling when Amaya signed in contradiction.

Serena smiled with amusement, arms folded and stance casual as she watched a group of Neolandian’s walk by, the next round stepping forward to speak with the King. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be used to it.” She had a soft voice that always managed to carry with little effort, even in noisy environments like this. Rayla had heard that she was a most fantastic singer, but had never heard it for herself.

Brock caught Rayla’s eye and grinned. He was, after all, the son of an influential earl. Like Callum, he had grown up with this being the norm. “Partly why I ran away to be a mage. I’ll be brutally honest, I mostly appear at political gatherings for the free food.”

Serena rolled her eyes at this comment. “Going back to your earlier comment,” she said, glossing over his humour. “When would you like to discuss the treatment regime?”

Brock rubbed his eyes, the only sign of tiredness he permitted them to see. “When its quiet.” He said ruefully, glancing around the hall full of people. “I also wanted to confer with Nia first. She has a way of…” he gestured vaguely with his hand and appealed to Rayla. “What’s that phrase? About lateral thinking?”

Rayla smiled wryly. “‘Think outside the box’?” she asked, enunciating the sounds in the native dialect so that her accent rang out more clearly.

“That’s the one!” Brock replied, pleased. “Yes. Nia has the annoying habit of getting to the heart of a problem after only a few minutes of contemplation.”

“One might even say…a… _bird’s eye view_?” Serena asked, enjoying the united groan her words elicited.

When he recovered, Brock said, “Which is doubly amusing given she even has _wings_.”

“Does she now?” Serena asked slowly, lifting her cup to her lips. She deliberated as she took a draught before saying, “I’ve never met a wing’d elf before.”

“You’ll wish you hadn’t.” Brock assured her. “All joking aside,” he went on more seriously, and Serena lowered her cup, looking more detached and clinical. “Your input would be greatly appreciated.”

“Is somethin’ wrong?” Rayla asked lightly. She was fairly sure she knew what it was – she had been pestering Callum to get checked out again after he had nearly collapsed running up a winding flight of stairs the other day.

Brock glanced not so subtly across the room at Callum, still stuck in a conversation with someone. “Not currently.” He said unhelpfully.

Serena rolled her eyes and assumed a jaunty stance again, waving her cup around expertly with dramatic flare and never spilling a drop. “Coming from you, that could mean anything.” When he turned to her with a quizzical look, she elaborated, “I mean, you swing between ‘oh it’s all right’ to ‘fetch the gurney’ so quickly, sometimes. I would almost assume the Prince was about to keel over the way you harp on,”

Brock smiled with exaggerated tiredness. “He has a remarkable talent for attracting trouble. I am merely attempting to mitigate the resulting damage. As Lady Rayla can attest to,” he gestured at her.

“Oh, I _know_ you’re tryin’.” Rayla said with amusement, though her heart twinged with concern when she caught a flash of pain on Callum’s face from across the hall. By the time the official who was talking at the time had turned back to him, he had schooled his expression into serene calmness. Opeli very gently touched his shoulder, so Rayla knew he was being looked after. “He’s just very good at not listenin’,”

Amaya sniggered and signed. “Perhaps you should try harder,” Gren translated for the others’ benefit.

“Oh, I can try.” Rayla muttered mutinously into her cup. “Against a brick wall, maybe.”

“Now Rayla,” Brock simpered. “You know that would only knock the remaining sense out of him.”

“Don’t your people take oaths to be Healers?” Serena asked, eyes wide in mocking outrage. She put a hand over her heart and pretended to lean away from him, looking askance. “Grievous bodily harm is a _definite_ no, Brock!”

Rayla thought dully of all the times Callum had walked into solid objects, and off of ledges, and wondered vaguely how he had ever made it back in one piece. He didn’t _need_ help knocking himself around. She needed help to stop him from knocking himself out. It baffled her no end how someone could be so clever and dextrous and yet so utterly clumsy.

“If it were to reset his cognitive capabilities…”

“I’ve never come across a healing protocol that required the slamming of the patient’s head against a flat surface.” Serena countered.

Amaya signed, and Rayla laughed, and Gren smiled with loving exasperation before he obligingly translated. “It works if the patient is drunk.” She shot Rayla a knowing smirk, and Rayla did her best impression of a politician’s face.

“Ah, I heard about that,” Brock chipped in with a sly smile. “A little bird told me some idiots came back from the festival in town, caterwauling like angry sheep on dragon nip.”

Serena had been making a show of inspecting her nails, and at this comment slowly lifted her gaze to meet Brock’s. She made a face, mouth miming sounds and words, unable to piece a sentence together. Eventually, she managed, with much wringing of her hands: “How would that even _work_?!”

Rayla turned her head at the movement in her peripheral vision, and smiled as she watched Callum slide through the crowd towards her. He started and ducked out of the way as someone came wading through the throng to find him, and edged his way around a column to avoid detection. Not for the first time Rayla found herself musing that he would have made a terrible spy. Eventually he got to their group without being harassed by anyone, and pulled up alongside her.

Serena and Brock looked him up and down with identical expressions of calm concern. The only give away that they were agitated about his condition was Brock’s fidgeting with his belt, and the way Serena shot him a warning look over it.

Callum looked pale and drawn, and the arm he slipped around Rayla’s back was heavy and slow. He gave them all a cheerful enough smile, because that was what was expected of him today, and Rayla resisted the urge to say something. She reached for his hand, which he obligingly shifted from her back to her waist where she gently squeezed, trying to communicate to him without words or signs. The tired smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes, and she knew it was getting bad.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Brock said, moving closer to conduct a discreet examination. “Prince Callum, you do not look well.”

“I’ll be all right,” Callum said, using the same vague tone that pissed him off whenever Ezran used it. Rayla wanted to shake him, probably would have too if she wasn’t anxious about hurting him. Amaya looked like she was thinking along the same lines, but she refrained from getting directly involved, letting the healers take charge instead.

“For how much longer,” Serena pushed gently. She likewise came forward and pressed a hand to his brow. Then, with a deepening frown she gently touched the collar of his shirt. “You have a fever.”

“There’s not much I can do about it,” Callum said tightly, trying to smile again.

“Ez can do without you for an hour,” Rayla countered, her tone just as taut.

Callum glanced up at the dais where his brother was talking to Corvus and a couple of people from Del Bar. “Probably not.”

Rayla scowled openly, caring less and less about what any onlookers might be thinking.

Brock pulled a face. “We can’t force you, but it might be wise to take a break. You aren’t well, Callum.”

Before he could mount a response, Soren appeared in the crowd, smiling good-naturedly and ploughing through the throng of people until he reached them, holding up Bait. He bowed deeply, causing a group of giggling teenagers to stop and look at them.

“The King requests that you procure for his familiar a Tart of Jelly!” Soren proclaimed loudly, making the teens giggle again. He dumped the grumpy glowtoad into Callum’s arms, and leant down to whisper in Rayla’s ear, “Get his ass outta here.”

“On it,” she grabbed Callum’s hand and tugged until he moved. She was aware of Brock and Serena exchanging brief words before the Earthblood elf followed them towards the exit.

They made it part way down the corridor before Callum needed to stop. He clutched at his chest, panting as he leaned heavily against the wall, nearly dropping Bait. Rayla plucked him out of Callum’s hands and deposited him on the floor before she grabbed Callum more firmly. He was slowly capsizing, wincing in pain.

“Easy,” Brock ran the last few paces and grabbed his other arm. “Come, let’s get you to bed.”

After they got him to his rooms and Brock performed some healing magic, Callum point blank refused to go to bed. Rayla likewise refused to leave him, so they sat on the couch in stony silence for what felt an age after Brock had left.

It was stupid and childish, and on Rayla’s part quite hypocritical to be pissed off with him for not thinking about his own well-being first (she was practically guilty of treason on that front, according to Ezran). She sat in silence, fuming with him until Callum started awkwardly sidling towards her. She gave him a dour look, and relented almost immediately at the silly look on his face. Callum held out a hand to her, giving her that shy smile that always made her heart melt.

“Truce?”

Rayla didn’t like giving in without a fight, so she worked hard to look irritated. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.” He agreed.

She appraised him a bit longer, and then took his proffered hand, bringing it to her heart before kissing his knuckles. “You had me worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rayla gave him a pleading look. “There’s only so many times I can hear that,”

Callum went to apologise again, flushed and thought better of it, and gave her one of those complicated smiles. “It wasn’t this bad this morning.”

“C’mere,” Rayla lifted her arm, and he took the invitation to snuggle into her side. “I know you don’t like cuddlin’ while grumpy.” She teased him, and Callum grunted in response. Rayla just smiled and snuggled back.

Soon, Callum was fast asleep, and she dozed off herself in the peace and quiet of his rooms. After an hour, he roused himself with a yawn, and groaned when he realised how much time had elapsed.

“Be honest.” Rayla said bluntly. “Do you want to go back?”

He gave her a pained look before hanging his head and turning aside with a sigh. “No.” A hand went to rub at his chest, and he winced.

“Bed. Healer’s orders.”

Rayla tucked him into bed, and then stayed because he asked her to. She would have left if he wanted her to, and she was glad that he didn’t, because she would have just spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to climb the walls with anxiety for him. It was easier to be rational when she could see and feel him in her arms. His breathing was a little laboured, his face was overly warm to the touch, as was his chest, but other than that he just looked fatigued. Unable to do anything else for Callum, Rayla simply lay beside him, watching and monitoring as he drifted in and out of sleep.

It didn’t feel like enough, until the evening after she helped him to soak the wound and take the tea Brock had left for him. Over a hot meal, Callum said with a sheepish smile that knowing she had been nearby made him feel safer that afternoon. She didn’t say anything, just took his hand to give it a loving squeeze, and smiled.


	3. Far Away

It was rare for Callum to wake up before Rayla, but it sometimes happened. The last day of the festivities (the formalities, at any rate; the party in the city would continue on for days) found Callum wide awake just before dawn and unable to fall asleep again. Beyond the pale arch of Rayla’s throat, grey light filtered through the crack in the curtains, and he could smell rain in the air – maybe a few hours away. It was quiet, but for the very distant sounds of activity in the rest of the castle, the wind outside, and the gentle sound of breathing. Rayla was lying on her back, Callum curled up against her side, their limbs tangled contentedly together amongst the sheets. It was warm and unbelievably comfortable.

Very slowly, so as not to wake her up, he tilted his head to make sure his eye lashes wouldn’t brush against her skin, closed his eyes, and lowered his cheek against the crook of her neck again. Rayla was a light sleeper by nature, and had been trained to hone that trait to a fine edge. He didn’t want to wake her up this early, so he contented himself with meditating while he had the chance.

It was the last day – he could have a lie in tomorrow, there would be no meetings until the middle of the afternoon. He just had to survive a few more hours and then he could have a break.

His chest twinged, heart fluttering, and Callum fought down a grimace.

He needed to see Brock again. He could feel something changing but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. A part of him felt sluggish and slow, and another part jittery and anxious for movement – and the rest of him was just plain confused. As he had told Rayla: some days were better than others, though he felt he’d probably never be quite the same again after what had happened.

Fragments of memory scattered across his mind’s eye unbidden, and he tried to sit passively in the middle of it all, acknowledging each piece as it came and went, letting it go without judgement. Claudia’s grim, fixed expression, eyes burning with determination; harsh, acrid words that turned to ash in his own mouth as they brushed against his ears; bright light and searing pain – white hot shrapnel and burning venom; Aaravos’ hand on his throat and Rayla’s arms around his shoulders, hand on his cheek, begging him to keep his eyes open, to not fall asleep; Ezran wordlessly grabbing him in a too tight hug, eyes filled with tears and too distraught to make any noise while he embraced his big brother; Viren’s cold sneer despite his broken appearance and Brock’s warm, concerned gaze as he very gently smoothed the hair off his brow, like his mother used to when he was sick; hours of mind numbing boredom while he waited to heal, watching everyone else get on with the fight against the Archmage; Rayla’s dear face, both torn in an agony of fear and horror, and deep, all-consuming relief when he finally opened his eyes and squeezed her hand back. Once the tide of memories ebbed, Callum repeated the exercise with the here and now, just acknowledging the physical sensations in his body, accepting that they were there, and then let go of them.

It was an easy, familiar exercise – something his mother had tried to teach him from a young age, and reinforced by Ibis when he trained under the Mage. The problem was, if his thoughts lingered too long on Rayla, or Ezran, he felt guilty for worrying them. Once they had had some time alone, Rayla had wept on his shoulder while he just held her, because she had thought that was it – that she was going to lose him this time, and there was nothing else he could do but keep holding her.

Callum sighed, unable to stop himself in time as he deviated from the exercise, and sure enough the force of his exhalation was enough to rouse Rayla. The rhythm of her breathing changed, then she sighed and brought a hand up to her face, yawning widely.

“Wha’ time izzit…?” she mumbled, just about coherent.

“Early.” Now that she was alert, he indulged with some cuddles, to which she clumsily but happily responded, so he didn’t feel _too_ guilty about waking her up.

After a comfortable stretch of time, Rayla groaned and dug her fingers into his shoulder, and he suppressed a laugh. “I don’t want you to go,” she complained.

“I can’t say no to the King.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” Rayla growled at him, holding him tighter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he beamed into her neck.

“I could kill you, sometimes.” She said carelessly, and he could just picture her expression.

Callum gently detangled himself from her as best he could, considering she was hanging on like she meant to anchor him to the bed, and looked at her face. She scowled back at him, violet eyes almost midnight dark in the dim light, and it just made his smile deepen.

“We both know you’d never go through with it.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Leaning down, Callum brushed his lips against the very corner of her mouth. She pressed her own lips into a thin line and held still. Grumpy Rayla was both hilarious and adorable, not that he was prepared to admit it.

“Where else would you go for sex?” he murmured against her skin, running a hand suggestively down her stomach.

“I survived just fine before you. I’d survive again without you.”

“Ohh, but it’s so much more _fun_ this way.”

Rayla sighed and put a hand to her temple, frowning. Callum took the hint and backed up, giving her some space. She eventually gave him a lopsided smile, and then checked the light through the curtains.

“This is a bad time.”

At first, Callum blinked, and then mentally ran through the calendar, his initial thoughts that he had missed how close the waxing half-moon was. Rayla wasn’t comfortable being intimate during her period, and Callum was loath to pressure her into anything. She caught his train of thought, and rolled her eyes.

“Not like _that_. Full moon was only last week.”

“Okay…” he responded slowly.

Her smile turned more sardonic, and she pinched his cheek. “We both have places to be and stuff to do this mornin’. If we stop to have sex now, it’s either a quickie, or we’re both late for duties. There’s not enough time for that argument.”

Callum wanted to pout and look angry about it, but he knew she had a point. He fell back dramatically onto the pillows with a theatrical groan, gesturing grandly and lamenting, “Be still, my beating heart! Alas-!”

“You are _such_ a Drama Prince.” She said in that cool, detached tone that meant he was truly trying her patience.

“I’ve been smiling at and talking to people I barely know all week long. Let me have this.”

“No.” Came the flat response.

Wanting to dispel the tension, he tested his luck with, “You’re cruel. Lemon juice flows in your veins!”

That made her crack up, and Callum got to enjoy her laughter for a precious minute.

“Dummy,” she poked his nose, grinning.

“I can’t wait for this week to be over.” He sighed, leaning into her touch.

“Me too.”

They briefly leaned in, brows touching, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, before Callum broke the contact first by closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against hers. Then he reluctantly slid to the edge of the bed and got up. He went for his usual attire for the morning briefings, and unenthusiastically pulled out a red tunic for later on in the day, giving it a hard stare after it had been hung up on the door of the wardrobe. While he was glaring at it, he caught Rayla in the corner of his vision, and turned to look at her; she was staring at her reflection in the mirror, prodding at the markings under her eyes.

When Callum poked her, she said without looking away, “The dye’s fadin’. Needs a touch up,”

“We could do that later before the party,” Callum offered. It was true, the colour was fading into a slightly lighter, bluer shade, although the skin underneath wasn’t yet visible.

Rayla considered it for a moment, giving herself a hard look before throwing her hands up and making a noncommittal noise that sounded like a careless ‘Ehhh’ and reached for her hairbrush. Callum shrugged and left her to it. He made sure she could see that he had taken a pot of the special dye out from one of the cupboards, and left it on top of the chest of drawers, in case she changed her mind. Callum decided that he could be bothered to shave this morning, so he went to the bathroom while Rayla did her hair. There wasn’t a lot, so it didn’t take long, and he came back to the bedroom to find her still wrestling with her hair, trying to pull it back into the braid required by the army with a snarl.

“Would you like a hand?” he asked gently, and she crumpled onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

“It’s gonna be one of _those_ days, isn’t it?” she griped, flopping back onto the blankets and throwing an arm over her eyes. “I’m gonna die on the trainin’ field. Your Aunt’s gonna annihilate me. You’ll just have to go to the party without me, ‘cause I’ll be dead. Soren, dancin’ on m’grave…”

“Now who’s being dramatic?” Callum asked with a little sardonic smile of his own. Rayla was, for the most part, all bark and no bite. He motioned for her to sit up, and once she had roused herself into an upright position, he started combing patiently.

Callum was infinitely fascinated with her hair; it was soft and had an almost slippery texture, so it rarely got knotted and snarled the way his did, despite its length. When they had first met it had reached a little below her shoulders, now it was a little above her elbows, and she kept flipping between the views of keeping it that length, growing it longer, or just cutting it off. While he worked, Rayla pulled on her arm guards, and then waited for him while she picked at the worn leather.

Because she worked for the army and under the General’s direction, but wasn’t technically a citizen of the kingdom, she got to flout the rules about uniforms. Ethari had managed to procure some Xadian garments when they last saw each other, in roughly the same colours of the Katolian army but were much more like her assassin’s armour; close fitting, light and fast. Callum smiled to himself as he drew her hair into four sections instead of three, and started to braid it, beginning at the crown of her head between her horns. It still passed as a regulation braid, but was distinctly Xadian if you knew what to look for; Rayla smiled when she admired it in the mirror while Callum gathered up his things for the first meeting.

For a long moment he stood in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at her as she turned towards him with an amused smile, eyes bright with supressed mischief. It made his heart flutter pleasantly in his chest, thinking back to the kids they had been when they first met, and how much they had both grown since then. She was as beautiful as ever, still lean and slender; the gentle curves of her body more pronounced, and currently hidden under her armour. Callum was completely in love with the female form, and sometimes wished she would wear clothes that accentuated her shape more often, though he knew she was far more comfortable in practical work clothes. Unlike most adult Moonshadow elves, she didn’t have any markings on her body, except for her face, which she had been disinclined to revise over the years. She did have some rings for her horns, though she rarely wore them this side of the border because they just drew even more attention.

Rayla’s smile became a little sly, and she cocked an eyebrow at him. “I know that face.”

“What face?” Callum went for nonchalant, and didn’t think he had pulled it off as she walked across the room to him. “The dumb idea face?”

“No.” she gave him a small peck on the lips, fingers tracing his cheekbone. “I’d rather spend the day with you, too.”

Callum reciprocated her sentiment, and placed a hand over the one she gently pressed against his chest.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just a Council meeting to check on the harvest, and then to go through the guest list for the afternoon.” He grimaced. “I _really_ don’t want to talk to the delegates from Neolandia…”

Rayla pulled a face and didn’t say anything – probably because whatever she was thinking was inappropriate and very unhelpful.

To save them from further gossip, Rayla left via the window after giving him one last kiss and making him promise to take it easy before she dropped down from the sill onto the roof below, and made her jaunty way across the castle towards the barracks, leaving Callum alone with his thoughts as he walked to Ezran’s study.

Thinking about Rayla’s marks reminded him that last year, Ethari had intimated that he had made full designs for her, if she wanted them. But she couldn’t have anything done without the sanction of the Silvergrove’s Elders – which she couldn’t get because she couldn’t go back, and she didn’t have the heart to go ahead and do it without them anyway. It hurt Callum to think that she had spent so much of herself for her people, and hadn’t been welcomed back like the hero she was; the Sunfire elves had been more welcoming than the spare handful of Moonshadow elves that had been around when Aaravos had finally been defeated. Lujanne had told him their people didn’t adapt well to sudden changes, and the world was very rapidly changing. Not that Callum thought that was a good enough excuse, though he did his best to keep those thoughts to himself. As a representative of Katolis and the Pentarchy, it wouldn’t look good if he started picking fights over deeply held cultural practises.

With effort, he pushed those thoughts aside for the moment, and joined his brother in the King’s Study for a quick breakfast over the itinerary for the day, letting Bait slurp up the crumbs while they packed up and headed out. Ezran gave him a tired looking smile despite everything, and Callum gave his little brother a squeeze as Corvus ushered them out of the study, towards the throne room.

Ezran put on the crown with a small sigh, and Callum tried to resist the urge to reach out and adjust it on his brow. He failed, and Ezran gave him the kind of look Harrow would give Callum when he used to faff around with straightening his stepfather’s collar or tucking a scarf more securely around his neck in winter.

Callum smiled contritely and tweaked the King’s collar. “Sorry.”

“I love you too.” Ezran said simply, with the same kind of easy smile and affection their father used to bestow on them.

XOXO

After lunch, Callum met up with Rayla outside the library. She looked tired and grumpy, and like she had rubbed herself raw in the bath house. When the rain had finally fallen late that morning, she had got caught in the downpour, and then stuck in the mud when Amaya refused to let them off ‘just because of a little rain’. It had all been downhill from there.

Trying not to laugh, Callum had wordlessly led her up to his rooms, and let her sulk in a corner while he got the clothes they needed into order. Then he set the bottle of dye on the table and waited for her to make a move, picking up his sketch book in the meantime.

His patience eventually paid off and Rayla fell dramatically onto the couch beside him, kicked up one foot to rest it on the opposite knee, and stared hard at the fireplace.

“Let’s do this.”

Callum supressed a smile and went to put his sketchbook away, but she held a hand out to him, so he passed it to her instead. She sat up straight and let Callum lean against her as he very gently and carefully repainted the marks under her eyes, while she flicked idly through the pages of his sketchbook. He used the same special kind of stick like the one that Ethari had always used, carefully applying a layer of dye to her skin. While it was drying, Rayla got up and rummaged around in one of the drawers in the sideboard. Callum was giving his deep red tunic another hard look when she tapped his shoulder, and he turned around to find her holding up a little bottle of white dye and a brush, lips twitching upward into a crooked smile.

Tending to someone’s markings was a deeply intimate exercise – only very close friends and immediate family were ever invited to do so. They didn’t say anything, he just obligingly pulled his shirt over his head and sat still for her as she painted fresh lines over the runes, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

By the time Rayla finished his arms, the residual dye was ready to be wiped off her face. Callum took her chin and tilted her head this way and that, casting a dispassionate artist’s eye over his handiwork to make doubly sure it was right. She rolled her eyes, smiling as she shook her head at him slowly. His responding smile was unrepentant, and he kissed her gently, hand still on her chin.

Once the marks were taken care of, they pulled on their fancy clothes, and spent the remaining time helping each other to look neat and very presentable. Rayla just went for a simple half up, half down hair style, twisting the tail into a fishbone braid, while Callum tried to decide if he should wear his scarf or not.

Rayla joined him in front of the mirror in the bedroom, leaning casually on his shoulder as she looked at his reflection with a crooked smile. He shot her a rueful look in return, lowering the scarf from his neck again.

“It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” he asked, waving the scarf at her.

Rayla resisted the urge to snort with laughter. Callum was very attached to his scarf; it had been a gift from his stepfather, bright red and a token of his position in the royal family, while letting him wear the colours that he felt more comfortable in. Harrow’s way of letting him know he could both fit in and stand out at the same time.

“Red’s not _really_ your colour,” she mused. She raised an eyebrow at him when he chuckled nervously. “What?”

“I’m tempted to ask you to wear it. But that would just start more whispers.” He looked away, cheeks flushed. “Don’t exactly want to give the gossip mill more fodder…”

Rayla was flattered and a little self-conscious at this gesture, and she cleared her throat loudly to ease the fluttering sensation in her chest. “Wouldn’t want that,” she said lamely then gave him an equally soft smile as their eyes met.

In the end Callum looped the scarf over the bedframe and carefully smoothed the creases out of his clothing. He cut quite an impressive figure; red may not have been his colour, but he looked very regal and handsome all the same. The tunic had a high collar, and some sparse but rich gold embroidering down the front and across the shoulders. Upon his brow, partially hidden under his mostly tamed mop of dark hair, was a plain circlet, similar to the one Opeli wore, made of gold. He turned around and looked at Rayla for a long moment, and she flushed under his gaze.

Ezran had talked her into dressing up just a bit more for today – flashing those puppy eyes at her that should be illegal, pointing out that it _was_ a party for Callum, after all. So she had grudgingly taken out the absolute fanciest clothes she had for the occasion; a long teal tunic with slits either side from the waist down to the knees, spun with silver threads in a pattern of symmetrical leaves. The neckline was lower than most Moonshadow clothing, showing off _just_ enough of her collar bone to accentuate the gold necklace she wore – a little arum lily Callum had given to her for her birthday. The lower neckline, coupled with the way her belt cinched the tunic at the waist, gave her a much softer and more feminine silhouette. Luckily, the tunic also hid her swords against her thighs quite well, so she wasn’t about to walk into the hall unarmed. Not that she was going to tell Callum that unless asked directly. From the knowing smile he gave her as he left the bedroom, she presumed that he at least suspected her, but refrained from asking.

With a sigh, Rayla followed, and took his proffered hand as she joined him by the door. He kissed the very corner of her mouth tenderly, and she wished they could just stay here and indulge in each other instead of spending a few hours in a big hall full of strangers.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She said heavily, trying not to look petulant. Callum’s answering smile was mischievous, and she kissed him again.

“I really appreciate you coming with me to these functions.” He told her gently.

Rayla gave him a rueful smile. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

She squeezed his hands, giving him the kind of roguish smile that had both their hearts skipping. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They met Ezran at his study, and Callum spent five solid minutes fussing over him and his appearance. The young king bore it good naturedly, and gave very exaggerated and long suffering looks to Rayla around his older brother’s shoulder. She stood in a corner trying really hard not to laugh at either of them until Opeli came to check up on their progress. Once Callum was satisfied that Ezran looked sufficiently Kingly, they all made for the throne room together.

It was much of a muchness, as the rest of the week had been. Rayla was pleasantly surprised to see the Del Barian mage who had assisted with rescuing her family from the coins; Brindh smiled warmly, shook both their hands, and asked after everyone concerned. He was a heavy set, rather jovial man with white hair and a grey beard; his dark eyes were alight and animated, near constantly aware of all that went on around him. With Katolis having drafted legislation to restrict and phase out the use of Dark magic, Brindh had been calling on his own Queen to do the same in Del Bar, and Rayla respected him for it. She would never forget the look on his face as he poured over Viren’s notes – he had looked physically sick with some of the things the erstwhile High Mage had been experimenting with. Brindh had come to the conclusion that if Dark magic could be adapted and used in this way, and primal magic was not completely inaccessible to humans, it was no longer a justifiable risk.

They ended up having a long conversation together, and while Rayla was distracted, Callum’s least favourite viscount got his claws into the Prince’s arm, and he gave her a rueful smile as he squeezed her hand before allowing himself to be removed from the conversation. She kept shooting him looks across the hall, trying to be furtive about it, and the mage noticed. Brindh smiled lightly and dragged a couple of other people into his conversation, turning a blind eye so Rayla could politely slip away.

She was going to make a bee line for Callum, but she heard someone say his name, and turned her attention in that direction.

Standing off to one side, leaning against one of the stone columns, were Lady Jila’s twins. They were likewise watching Callum, and Rayla decided it was a good time to try and suss the pair of them out.

“You think he needs rescuing?” Seb asked again in a low voice, and his sister shrugged. “He doesn’t look happy.”

“That’s Lord Tarren. Of course Callum’s not happy.”

Seb looked at Ariadne, and she gazed back steadily before reshuffling her stance with a wince, pressing her fingers into the joint of her hip to alleviate the pain.

“Is that…that guy who argued with Dad about the crop rotations that one time? And Dad eviscerated him?”

“Yyyup.” She said dully, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Want to place a bet on what the bastard’s complaining about now?”

Seb gave her a hard look, and she scowled back fiercely.

“I _want_ you to sit down.”

She threw her hands up into the air. “I’ve spent the last four months sat down! I am so _bored_ of sitting down-”

“Okay, _fine_. Don’t come crying fatigue to _me_ , then.” He stomped off into the throng. In the distance, their older sister turned slightly first in his direction, and then their sister’s.

“Well fuck you too.” Ariadne grumped to herself under her breath. She shifted her weight again, and eased her back off the column, concealing a grimace.

“You okay?” Rayla asked.

Ariadne jumped out of her skin and uttered an oath in some dialect that Rayla didn’t recognise. She looked up, wide eyed and clutching her heart, and Rayla felt bad for scaring her. She offered the woman a contrite smile and held a hand out to her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya.”

Ariadne laughed breathlessly, bending over for a moment and leaning back against the column. “I startle easy.” She said wryly. “I don’t cope well with surprises, I usually lurk in the corners at these functions.”

Rayla couldn’t help but notice her elevated pulse or the jagged edge to her breathing, which didn’t ease.

“You looked like you were in pain. I just wanted to check in case you needed help.”

Ariadne made a flippant gesture and rolled her eyes, and Rayla got the impression the derision was directed mostly at her injured leg. “I’m okay. Old riding accident. That and I’m prone to muscle wasting. Takes a while to recover, that’s all.”

“Sure?” Rayla wasn’t overly convinced, and gently prodding people was usually a good way to gauge their motivations and disposition.

“Yes, thank you.” Ariadne’s gaze shifted as she spoke, and hardened.

Rayla turned around and saw her sister making for them. She stopped beside Ariadne and put a hand on her shoulder. “Seb sent me.”

“Fuck off.”

Adila tweaked her ear. “ _Language_. How are you?”

“Contemplating fratricide.”

“Keep your tongue in check.” Adila said smoothly. Turning to Rayla, she added in that efficient tone of a practised courtier, “I apologise for my sister’s temperament. I hope she has not offended you.” As she spoke, Ariadne rolled her eyes and poorly mimicked her sister’s mannerisms. Adila’s response was to gently grab her shoulder and sink her fingers in.

“No, it was my fault. I snuck up on her. Most unintentionally.” She bowed politely, because it was the politic thing to do and usually let these things be laid to rest.

Adila turned to look at Ariadne, who smiled back ruefully. “Isn’t anxiety a wonderful thing?” the younger sibling said with a light air of mockery.

That would certainly explain why she was still presenting like she had just been spooked.

“Behave. Please,” Adila gave her a quick hug. “If for no other reason than for my sanity. And if your leg plays up, just go. Don’t wait around for us.”

“Yes.” Came the reply, heavily. As Adila re-joined the throng in the centre of the hall, she gave Rayla a real, unguarded smile. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m really fine. Feel free to ignore me.”

Rayla was deciding what to say next, and saw Callum slipping through the crowd towards them, so she turned to greet him with a smile. He slid an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, smiling warmly. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m used to it,” she said carelessly, smiling.

Callum looked at Ariadne and asked tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“Oh don’t you start,” she griped back, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders like a disgruntled vulture.

Callum put a hand up in surrender. “Just checking,”

“It’s m’fault. I’m used to you and Ezran noticin’ when I sneak around. Gave her a bit of a scare,”

“I’ll say,” Ariadne said with a snort of laughter. “I swear you were over _there_ one moment, and then over my shoulder the next,”

“Rayla,” Callum said in a mockingly accusing tone. “We talked about this. Civilians are _not_ legitimate targets.”

Rayla pretended to look offended. “But Soren’s on to me!”

Ariadne gave a bark of real laughter. “Oh Gods, he must be having fun with that exercise! He’ll make a challenge out of anything! What’s the score?” she looked to Callum.

“Pretty even.”

“I’m winnin’.”

“It changes on a daily basis-”

“Mostly me.”

Ariadne snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Does Soren beg to differ?”

“Well, yeah, but he’s wrong.”

She folded her arms again and shook her head, containing laughter. Apparently, she knew him relatively well, at least enough to draw this conclusion.

“Are you sure you don’t need a chair?” Callum pressed.

Ariadne gave him a flat look. “I am _so_ tempted to swear at you right now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “I’d welcome that. At least I know you’ll never tell me what I want to hear.”

“You probably don’t want to hear what I _think_ you need to hear, either.” Came the wry reply. “Besides. If I did Adila would kill me. I’m on my ‘best behaviour’.” She looked directly at Rayla. “That’s the other reason I lurk in corners. I have no brain-to-mouth filter.” She affected the same kind of smooth tone as her sister, and it came across as incredibly facetious. “It is a rare thing for a thought to cross my mind and not get voiced. It gets one into _all kinds_ of trouble.”

“Well I’m glad to see you exercising restraint under the circumstances.” Callum tipped her a magnanimous bow.

Ariadne laughed again. “Fuck you, Callum.” Rayla sniggered as he pretended to look offended, and Ariadne added with feigned horror. “Oh, I mean,” she fell into a lopsided curtsey. “Fuck you _, my Prince_.”

Rayla rather unhelpfully pointed at him and laughed, and he fixed both of them with that I’m-not-overly-impressed-with-your-antics look of his. She couldn’t help but note the softening of Ariadne’s expression as she looked at Callum, and tried to figure out what had prompted it. Callum turned to her as well, raising an eyebrow in silent invitation to speak.

The corner of Ariadne’s mouth twisted, and she blurted out, “You look so much like your Dad, it’s uncanny. Sorry, I can’t think of any graceful way of saying it. You look so much like Harrow.”

That pulled him up short. Callum just looked at her, trying to process her words. Rayla tightened her hold around his waist, giving him a loving squeeze in part to keep him grounded, and also to let him know she was aware of the messy tangle of emotions he was grappling with. There was a part of him that had yet to fully reconcile with the memory of his stepfather, and the many different facets of their relationship. Rayla had heard several people comment on just how much like Harrow Callum really was, but she wasn’t aware of anyone saying so out loud in Callum’s presence.

It seemed Ariadne was aware of what she had done. She gave a contrite smile, and extended a hand towards him, saying, “I’m sorry. I should have kept that thought to myself.”

“No, no,” Callum shook himself out of his shock with a bit of effort. “I’m not offended. It’s not a bad thing to be compared to him.”

“All the same, I could have picked a better setting to spring it on you.”

She looked somewhat uncomfortable, and Rayla could feel the tension in Callum’s body. Luckily, and oddly enough, the other twin came to everyone’s rescue; he zoomed across the hall and ducked unsubtly into the shadows of the columns before sliding around the edge of the one Ariadne was leaning against.

“So here’s the thing.” He said, so very casually, giving Callum and Rayla a polite nod. “Open to a truce?”

“What do _you_ want?” his sister sniped back.

Undeterred by her wrath, he went on, “Lord Simmons is floating around the drinks table.”

Both Ariadne and Callum reacted with dismay at this news.

“Will you be my legitimate excuse?”

“I will if you’ll be mine,”

Seb blinked. “I’ll- ask later. Right now, how fast can you move without breaking something?”

“Fast enough,” she said satirically, already turning to slip into the shadows with him.

Seb turned to Callum before he fled after her. “I’d disappear too, if I were you.”

“Yeah, because that’s an easy thing to do when the King puts on a party for you.” Callum said grumpily to his retreating back.

The name Lord Simmons rang a bell in Rayla’s memory, and she turned to scan the crowd. She was fairly certain she recognised him – one of the humans who had been very vocal about his displeasure regarding elves moving freely through Katolis. The kind of smarmy git who was happy to trade with Xadia, but only indirectly via his business relations in the other kingdoms of the Pentarchy. The sort of person who was all for something until it was happening in his own courtyard. He was of middling age, with the kind of grey flecked hair the term ‘salt and pepper’ had been coined for, and a rather impressive paunch. Even without his bigoted views, Rayla had encountered very few people who were prepared to say anything good about him beyond platitudes like ‘well he’s organised and gets the job done’. She was reliably informed that this generally translated to: he’s a nasty piece of work but I can’t say so out loud.

Rayla pulled Callum deeper into the shadows as the Lord started gazing in their general direction, and they hid behind one of the columns.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

“Yeah.” He was looking at the floor in front of him, lost in whatever trail of thought was passing through his mind.

“Need a moment?”

Callum sighed. “Yeah…”

They stood together in silence for a while until Callum got a grip on himself, just holding hands and leaning into each other for support. After maybe ten minutes quiet peace in this secluded corner, Callum gently mastered his emotions, and turned to give Rayla a warm smile and kissed her lips softly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She wasn’t entirely sure what expression she was pulling, beyond smiling, but it apparently dazzled him, because he leaned in to kiss her again, more deeply. And Rayla wasn’t about to complain.

“I will _definitely_ make it up to you.”

“Oh, I’m _countin’_ on it.” Rayla made a show of scanning the closest groups of people from their vantage point. “How pissed off d’ya think Opeli would be if we bailed right now?”

Callum chuckled. “Too much to justify it. I could probably get away with one last sweep of the crowd and then cry a headache.” He tapped a finger thoughtfully on his cheek. “I could always get a healer’s note from Brock. No one would argue with that,” he narrowed his eyes a little as he leaned around the edge of the column. “Although I might have to confer with Ezran before we go. _That_ guy,” he nodded at the Lord who everyone seemed to be trying to avoid at the moment. “Wasn’t on the guest list.”

“Foul play?” Rayla asked.

“I don’t know.” Callum had that calculating look usually reserved for cunning plans and Ezran-jelly tart related escapades. “I’m tempted to go over and talk to him just to find out what he’s up to. Looks like we won’t hear much gossip from him directly,” Callum observed, looking at the conspicuous space around the man.

Rayla sighed theatrically, and while Callum didn’t look at her directly, his gaze flickered, and his lips twitched into a smile.

“Fine. Go. I’m used to it.” She griped, mostly for effect. Rayla understood the position Callum was in, and grudgingly accepted that for the most part she had to share him and his attention with the rest of the kingdom. She was also grateful that he tried to shield her as much as possible from negative attention from the likes of Lord Simmons.

In response, Callum ducked back into the relative seclusion behind the column and kissed her. “I’ll spend the whole of the coming month making it up to you.”

“Now _that_ I can live with.” She murmured. The temptation to run her fingers through his hair was very strong – but this was a really bad time to be indulgent with physical affection, considering the number of potential witnesses. She wanted to tease him with a list of demands and threats about what she would do to him when they were alone, but she didn’t especially trust either of them to behave if she did, so Rayla very reluctantly let him go. “Try not to zap anyone.”

“Try not to slish-slash anyone,”

Rayla pretended that she had no idea what he was talking about, but Callum gave her no wiggle room. He slid a hand under her tunic and grabbed the hilt of the slish blade through her leggings, tugging for emphasis.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.” He said firmly, in his best Princely voice. It was so unfair what that did to her insides. Then he bit her bottom lip, and she only just supressed the whimper before it could claw its way up her throat.

“You are _such_ a bastard.” She said in a low hiss.

Callum lifted her left hand to his lips, giving it a chaste and very courtly kiss while the fingers of his other hand ran over the wrist. His smile was very smug and self-satisfied, and he left with a spring in his step. Rayla folded her arms, smirking and shaking her head at him as he threw her a carefree smile over his shoulder.

XOXO

That night and the following morning were wonderful. They went to bed late and rose at a semi-decent hour, but couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed until much later in the day. It was so nice to be lazy and not feel especially guilty about it, since neither of them had anywhere they needed to be. Just lying there, in each other’s arms, indulging in their shared affection for one another without interruption for once.

It wasn’t going to last for long; Callum had a meeting to go to, and Rayla was supposed to find Amaya at some point to discuss training exercises. At least, that’s what Gren always translated it as; in Amaya’s own signs it was usually some variant of ‘torture’, ‘punishment’, and Rayla’s favourite: ‘constructive criticism’, which sounded like something Runaan might have said.

With the respite that came at the end of all the celebrations, the knowledge that the visitors from Xadia would be arriving relatively soon weighed on Rayla’s mind more heavily than ever. Callum noticed this, but refrained from bringing it up, preferring to wait for her to be ready to voice it herself.

Keeping busy helped, so as the days stretched into weeks, trickling by just a bit too quickly for comfort, Rayla threw herself at anything and everything Amaya could conjure up. It was annoying and fun in equal measure, and Rayla liked to think the army as a whole was getting used to her being around. There were a few idiots who thought they could take Rayla on in a wrestling match (usually Jenny), and the more boisterous soldiers liked to argue the finer points of weapons crafting.

Rayla howled with laughter one particularly sunny but windy day, when Luke and Ben tried to gang up on her about the relative merits of Katolian steel versus Moonshadow weapons, and Soren completely destroyed their argument by saying in his loud, dumb, offhand way when asked to enter the discussion: “Oh yeah. No. Xadian weapons all the way, man. _Soooo_ much better.”

“Rub it in our faces why don’t you.” Jenny said in a tone so snarky you couldn’t take it seriously, jabbing half-heartedly at Rayla with the end of her halberd. “Shut up already! We get the point!”

When she _finally_ got her mirth under control, Rayla floated around in the back of the group, still smirking and fending off the occasional stab in her general direction.

“I agree with Soren’s point.” Marcos said amicably, very carefully not looking Rayla in the eye in case it set her off again. “But I _will_ say, I think crossbows are better for the battlefield.”

“Do you even have crossbows in Xadia?” Luke asked.

Rayla shrugged vaguely. “I think some Earthblood elves make’em? Ranged weapons isn’t exactly m’area of expertise.”

The conversation devolved into a new argument, namely between two growing factions in the ranks: bows against crossbows. Rayla didn’t really have much to say on the matter; she had been given a range of weapons to play around with from a young age, and had always been drawn to swords. She was naturally right-handed, but functionally ambidextrous – if she really needed to, she could make do with a bow and be pretty devastating with it. She voiced this to Jenny as two people started getting rather heated with each other, to the point that Soren and another Crownguard had to weigh in to separate them before a real fight broke out.

“I think it’s down to what you’d rather do. Easy to learn and hard to master, or hard to learn but easy to master.” Jenny said thoughtfully.

“The biggest advantage of the crossbow is that you can hold it at the ready for longer.” Marcos added, patting said crossbow that was unstrung at his side. “It takes less effort. But they are slower to fire. And a _nuisance_ to maintain,”

“Hey,” Jenny frowned for a moment. “Commander, maybe you know the answer to this,”

“I will when you ask the question,” Marcos said with a slight smile.

“Okay,” Jenny passed her halberd into her left hand, and waved the right. “I heard this story, right? That _this_ ,” she made a gesture that was considered rather insulting in Katolis: palm facing towards herself, with the first two fingers extended while the others were folded in. “Started because back in the days before the Pentarchy, when enemies captured Duranese soldiers, they cut the archers’ fingers off so they couldn’t draw a bow anymore. Is that true?”

Marcos blinked. “I…have no idea. I’d never heard that before.”

“Actually…” someone else joined the conversation, a woman named Kora who Rayla was growing increasingly fond of. She was Katolian by birth, but her family had hailed from Neolandia two generations ago; she had the typical, dark skin of the region, and heterochromia that made her left eye partially bright blue instead of hazel. It gave her a very striking and memorable appearance, especially when she removed her helmet and flicked her relatively short hair out of her eyes in the brisk wind. “I’d heard that story too. But that they only cut off the middle finger.”

“Huh…” Jenny looked at her own hand, wriggling the fingers around. “I guess…? I mean, loosing either one would make it seriously difficult to draw a bow string.”

“What does that gesture even mean?” Rayla asked, waving the back of her hand at Jenny without making the sign – Amaya was watching her from across the courtyard and she had promised Callum faithfully she wouldn’t cause any diplomatic incidents that week. Given that a group of ambassadors from various places was standing on a balcony above them, watching like so many hawks, it didn’t seem worth the risk.

“It varies between regions. Usually it’s an insult, but if you do _this_ ,” Kora made the gesture with her fingers against her chin. “It can mean lesbian. So just be careful where you use these gestures.”

Luke interjected himself into the conversation with a derisive laugh. “How can it mean _that_?”

“Like this,” Kora pretended to lick her hand indulgently, and it became clear very rapidly that Luke was out of his depth. He scuttled away quite quickly, red faced as the rest of them laughed. “Fun fact guys! In Neolandia, _this_ ,” she gave them a thumbs up. “Has the same meaning as _this_ ,” she flipped them her middle finger. “And it’s supposed to represent the male genitalia. Now then, let’s see…Jasper!” she called over her shoulder, and the guy shouted back in acknowledgement. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this means vagina in Evenere, right?” she asked, pinching her thumb and forefinger together in the manner that Rayla had come to associate with the phrase ‘A Okay’.

“Yes. Please stop waving obscenities at me.” Jasper begged in a dull tone. Rayla was pretty sure he was Katolian, but like Kora probably had extended family elsewhere in the Pentarchy.

Kora turned back at them all with a grin. “I was teaching some of the newbies universal sign language last night. We got drunk so it was mostly curse words. I think Jasper’s plotting my untimely demise now.”

“Looks like that’s what the General’s thinkin’.” Rayla added casually, watching Amaya who was staring pointedly in their direction. She flashed the woman a sycophantic smile, the sort of thing she would have done behind Runaan’s back but so that only Ethari could see, which would make him burst out laughing and confuse Runaan while she walked away serenely.

“I’ve been round the training yard too many times to be scared by _her_.” Kora said bracingly.

“You know she can lip read over long distances?” Rayla pointed out.

“General wants you,” Soren said vaguely as he walked by, throwing a mock punch at Rayla that was so easy to dodge that she made a real show out of the exercise. He then spun and lunged a bit more seriously, and Rayla swept his leg out from under him to be really annoying. “What is _with_ you!?” Soren pretended to rage at her. “It’s not even a _thing_!”

“Yes, Sir.” Jenny leaned on her weapon and loomed over Soren with a wicked grin. “That’ll be your epitaph, won’t it?”

Kora threw her head back with laughter. “I can see it now! We should get it translated into Draconic too, for good measure.”

“‘Sweeping the leg is not a thing. So sayeth the moron. He died tragically, his neck rent brutally at a ninety-degree angle, after picking a fight he had no hope of winning.’” Jenny made up on the spot.

“I’d like to see you try,” Soren straightened up and got right up in her face.

Jenny’s smile was a bit smug. “I have allies in bright places,”

It was an old idiom, the closest Katolian equivalent being ‘friends in high places’. Rayla felt rather pleased and somehow hollow at the same time to hear a human other than Callum using her people’s turn of phrase. She hesitated as she walked away from the group, and managed to cover it by turning around to look at Jenny, hands on her hips, shaking her head with a wry smile. Jenny beamed and waved back. She then had to duck because Soren lunged at her, and Rayla shook her head again with a smile as she heard Marcos raise his voice.

“Enough, everyone. Before something unfortunate happens.”

“What, like this?” someone asked, and then Jenny yelled indignantly before a scuffle broke out.

Rayla had to think about the signs she needed, and Amaya turned away from the developing fray with a raised eyebrow, and then smiled when Rayla pointed at herself and signed, “Not it.”

For the next ten minutes Rayla tried to hold a conversation just with signs, but it wasn’t easy (the bickering in the background that kept ebbing and flowing didn’t help her concentration, either), so she ended up relying on Gren in the end to translate. Rayla felt dejected once they had threshed out the coming week’s timetable, and started planning on what to do after the Xadian visitors had arrived. So it came as a surprise when Amaya tapped her shoulder and slowly signed with a real, warm smile that wasn’t tinged with irony or exasperation.

“You sign well. I’m proud.” She clapped Rayla on the back and went to go deal with the escalating fight that Marcos was failing to contain (Soren had grabbed Jenny and thrown her over his shoulders, and threatened to drop her down the well). That meant Rayla could shuffle off into a shadowy corner to try and detangle her messy thoughts.

Considering how hard Runaan had been on her growing up, it meant a lot to hear (or in this case, see) someone praising her, telling her how proud they were of her, and doing so this freely and openly still went against the grain of what she expected. Sometimes she thought she had outgrown her cultural upbringing, and other times she wasn’t so sure.

While she was trying to piece her composure back together, Rayla looked up idly, and saw Callum standing on the balcony with the collection of diplomats, deep in conversation with Corvus and someone wearing the colours of Neolandia. He looked so tired and ill she was already moving before she had time to consider a real plan. When no one was looking she scaled a wall, ran across the low roof towards the barracks, and meandered her way up the side of the first tower. Taking a gamble on when the meeting was supposed to end, Rayla slid through an open window high up in the wall, landing cat like on the carpet below on the other side.

A guard on duty made a strangled cry of surprise, clutching their heart, and Rayla gave them a rueful smile. Beside them, a more familiar face broke into laughter – Barius’ nephew, who looked like a much younger, thinner version of the man, called Nate.

“Hi Rayla.”

“Wassup?” she asked, bumping fists with him as she walked by.

Nate made a drawn out, non-committal sound and they chuckled before going their separate ways. She overheard the other guard, whose name she couldn’t remember, saying, “You don’t find that creepy?”

“What, Rayla? Nah, she does that all the time. I’m trying to convince her to teach me parkour too, but I need to work on my muscle strength first,”

“And the thought of an elf running around the roof tops unchecked doesn’t unnerve you?” they asked, tone verging on unpleasant.

Rayla turned her head just enough to catch a reflection of them in a suit of armour. Nate had stopped in his tracks, and was giving the individual an unimpressed look. “Dude, come on. Don’t be _that_ person.”

“Let’s just get this round over with.” Came the exasperated response.

If Rayla hadn’t been making a bee line to try and intercept Callum, she might have spent more time and effort thinking about the exchange. All she spared for it was a silent thank you to Nate before she rounded a corner and sprinted down the adjacent corridor. She found an alcove set into the middle of the wall, and nudged the vase there to one side so she could perch inside and wait, hoping the meeting would end soon.

After about fifteen minutes Callum came looking for her, and while she was happy to see him, it was very clear he wasn’t coping; without the strain of watching eyes, he didn’t try to pretend anymore.

“I thought I saw you bouncing across the roofs.” He said teasingly, clutching his chest.

“You look awful.” She stated bluntly as she got to her feet and felt his brow. “And you have a fever.”

“One of the delegates insisted on taking some fresh air.” Callum said evenly, expression tightly controlled.

“If Human Rayla were here, she’d be bettin’ money on which one,” she said sardonically, prodding at his collar. “You’re not well enough for another meetin’.”

“I know, I know.” He looked just a bit annoyed, so she relented and stepped back to give him more space. “You know it’s bad when the _King_ gives you a sick note.”

Rayla tried really hard not to laugh at his expense; she could only imagine what that must have looked like.

Callum sighed and rubbed over his heart with a wince.

“Would you like a hand?” Rayla asked quietly, eyes darting to the group of people who had just entered from the other end of the corridor.

Callum glanced at them before turning back to her with a grateful smile. “Yes,”

She took his hand, before rethinking it and wrapping her arm around his waist instead, just in case his knees buckled. He didn’t look in pain, so much as…deeply, bone wearily tired. Getting up to his rooms took longer than usual, and once there she set him down on the couch and threatened dire retribution if he even _thought_ about moving. By the time Rayla had made some tea and started mixing up the medicine, Callum hadn’t moved a muscle, and she was concerned because she was sure it hadn’t been because of her threats.

“Hey,” she smoothed the hair off his brow, and then poked him in the side of the head, heart leaping in alarm. “Don’t fall asleep!”

“Mmm’wake…” Callum mumbled. He frowned and brought a hand to his temple. “My head hurts…”

“Here,” she gave him a steaming mug and waited for him to drink most of it before tending to the wound. She was surprised and a bit concerned that it didn’t look all that bad today…maybe even a little better than the last time she had soaked it. Which meant Rayla had no idea what was wrong with him, or how to help.

When she prompted him, Callum sighed, closed his eyes, and said, “I’m just really tired.”

“Are you _sure_?” she pressed, wondering if it was safe to leave him and run up to the infirmary to get Brock. It would have been a lot quicker than asking a guard to go, but she didn’t want to leave him.

“I can barely keep my eyes open…” he said quietly, and that sent a jolt of fear through her.

“Hey, stay awake,” she poked his nose and then slapped his ear.

Callum retaliated – incredibly clumsily, to the point where he just smacked his own knee. “Fuck off already,” he griped at her.

Rayla sighed with relief. If he had the where with all to fight back and swear at her, he wasn’t in any serious or immediate danger. Callum looked pretty wretched when his mind caught up with his actions, and he hid his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Been one of those days?” she asked, patting the knee he had managed to hit instead of her.

“Try one of those _weeks_ …” he groaned.

Rayla got up and sat down beside him, and he leaned against her gratefully. “They’re not stayin’ for much longer, right?”

“Cutting it as close to the arrival of the group from Xadia as possible, out of spite.” He rubbed his temples. “That group from Neolandia are a bloody _nightmare_. The two instigators just love throwing their weight around, and the other five are either too afraid to speak up or perfectly happy to turn a deaf ear on them. I _swear_ Amir’s trying to stir up arguments wherever he goes…”

“You need a break.” Rayla said, for what felt like the thousandth time that month.

“Don’t-” Callum gestured uselessly, completely frazzled. “Don’t start. I don’t want to argue with you, too,”

Rayla waited patiently for him to be ready to look her full in the face, which took a while, but eventually he did, looking very contrite and even more tired if it were possible.

“I think you should go to bed.”

“It’s not even that late…” Callum heaved a great sigh and passed a hand over his eyes again.

“Then don’t go to bed. Just…lay down for a bit, on the bed.” She supressed a laugh as Callum groaned into his hand. “It’ll be more comfortable than the couch.”

Callum gave her a coy smile. “Would it be terrible to ask you to stay a bit longer?”

“Nope.” She was already on her feet and turning to help him stand. “When was the last time we just snuggled?”

“I don’t know, I can barely think straight right now…”

“C’mon,” she tugged him towards the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed. “For cryin’ out loud, at least take your boots off!”

“Right, right…” he reached clumsily for them, taking part of the bed covers with him as he did so.

“You’re hopeless,” she shot at him with a sigh, watching him struggle.

“I’m so tired I don’t care anymore.” He yawned widely, dropped his boots unceremoniously, and flopped back onto the pillow with a sigh.

“Yeah, which leaves me to clean up your mess.” She sniped at him, tugging off her own boots.

“Ehhh…” he said vaguely, waving a hand at her.

Callum was almost asleep by the time she crawled onto the bed beside him. He had just enough energy to flop an arm around her and cuddle up against her chest. His next sigh was one of deep appreciation and relief.

“I am so comfortable right now.”

“Just go to sleep already.” She told him, smiling and kissing his hair before indulging herself with a good snuggle. Rayla _really_ liked hearing that particular phrase; it made her less afraid about his health.

It didn’t take long for Callum to drift off, and she focused on the deep, slow rhythm of his breathing as she stroked his hair and touched his cheek. He looked a lot more peaceful now that he had a chance to rest. It was so nice to just _exist_ in this moment with him.

XOXO

Callum continued to feel the fatigue dragging at him, and his chest continued to ache more than it did hurt. Brock was on the verge of tearing his hair out in exasperation over him.

“What am I to do with you?” he despaired, wracking his brains to think of what he could offer to relieve the new presentation of symptoms. He was quite sure the fatigue was tied to the wound on his chest, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why it had started now.

Callum looked up at Ariadne, who was watching from a stool on the workbench on the other side of the dispensary. She gave him an ironic smile before going back to the papers on the desk before her. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry for being so awkward.”

Ariadne sniggered into her elbow.

“I know you can’t help it,” Brock said vaguely, gathering the ingredients for a poultice. “Occupational hazard of magic, I’m afraid. Hold still,” he swabbed at the edge of the scar tissue experimentally with a paste made from some interesting looking ochre coloured root. “Ari, could you get the chamomile cream from the storeroom?”

She heaved herself up and went to collect it while Brock continued to poke at Callum. When she arrived, Brock enlisted her help to put the poultice together.

“Enjoying being a medic?” he asked her while she worked.

“It’s rewarding enough. Not as good as a well organised filing cabinet, but it’s fulfilling.”

Callum laughed at the look on Brock’s face; the elf was trying his best to look nonchalant and inoffensive. Ariadne twisted the corner of her mouth around to keep from following Callum’s example.

“You’ve seen it.” He stated.

“Yup.”

“How bad was it?”

“I’m not allowed up there anymore.” Ariadne said simply, grinding up some more roots in a pestle. “Takes too long to mop me off the floor. Just not worth the waste of time to all concerned.” Her main coping mechanism for her anxiety attacks was to poke fun at herself, and facetiousness was a heritable trait in her family.

Brock then spent the next few minutes explaining to her what he was doing and why, and she listened diligently, scribbling some notes down as they went in her appalling scrawl that passed for handwriting.

Callum had half hoped Rayla wouldn’t come looking for him, fearing to worry her further, but he was admittedly glad to see her when she stuck her head around the door of the dispensary. He felt just a _bit_ self-conscious about the fact that he was naked from the waist up with another woman in the room, but if Rayla cared on any level she didn’t show it. She walked over to where he was sat and put her hands on his shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” he said for the hundredth time that day. “You?”

Rayla beamed. “Amaya cancelled trainin’. Ground’s too wet, and looks like it’ll rain again tonight.”

“Oh, I bet she was pissed about that.” Ariadne said pleasantly from her perch where she was scrawling across a new sheet of paper.

“We had to talk her down. I thought she was gonna have apoplexy.” Rayla said, her smug smile only thinly veiled.

Ariadne looked in her direction, a bit surprised at how well Rayla spoke Katolian. Callum felt a warm rush of pride on Rayla’s behalf, and squeezed her left hand.

“Ah, an extra pair of hands.” Brock said brightly, holding out a bowl to Rayla. “Can I ask for your help, if you have no one to be beating up on this fine day?”

“I guess,” Rayla grinned, taking the bowl from him.

Brock beckoned to Callum. “Now, I want you to pay attention to this spell and it’s application. But if I catch you practising it this month, I will _not_ be pleased.”

“Understood,” Callum chimed innocently.

It amused him no end that Rayla looked up at him over the bowl in her hands, smile sardonic as she shook her head, while over her shoulder Ariadne just leaned her face into her hand, shoulders shaking with supressed mirth.

“I didn’t know you were a medic,” Rayla said to her as Brock showed Callum the necessary runes and the right sequence to put them in.

“Not exactly.” Ariadne said ruefully. She put her chin in her hand and leaned against the worksurface. “I’m more on the admin side of things.”

“You sell yourself short,” Brock put in as he lined the bowls up on the table. “So we’ll start over here…” he said, drawing the runes over the different components that would make up the poultice.

Ariadne leaned over to watch with interest, and Rayla slid out of the way so she could better see without moving her injured leg.

“I just thought you’d be a diplomat, like your sister.” Rayla said with a shrug once the spell had been cast.

Ariadne snorted with laughter and waved the notion away. “No one wants that. It would be a disaster. No, I’ve found a calling in life, one where I can put my paranoia and neuroticisms to good use.”

Brock paused in the act of mixing the ingredients altogether. “Well that’s one way of putting it,”

She pointed at him menacingly. “ _Tell_ me I’m wrong.”

“I wouldn’t dare venture an opinion.” Brock said primly.

Callum snorted with laughter. He had always liked Ariadne. Granted, she and Seb had partaken in some of the more childish behaviours displayed by Soren when they were kids, and she used to but heads with Claudia a lot, but beneath her thick skin of sarcasm and deprecating jokes, she was incredibly empathetic. The first panic attack he’d had after learning of his mother’s death, she had just sat with him – for the better part of two hours – holding his hand and waiting for him to be ready before she even attempted to start calming him down. Despite the spats they’d had with each other after that, each time Callum trying to defend Claudia against her scathing remarks, he had never forgotten Ariadne’s implicit kindness and understanding when he most needed it.

The door swung open and someone walked in. It was the son of one of the senior advisors to the Lower Council (the group that organised the civil needs of the capital). Dylan was short, which made him appeared broader than he really was, with dark hair and eyes, and dark skin except for the large sweep of paler pigmented skin that wrapped around his neck and most of his right arm (and though it usually went unseen, his left knee). He smiled vaguely and waved at everyone as he walked by, giving Callum the kind of bow that was customary and expected but with his own little flare to it, which countered the solemnity of the occasion.

“Good morning, good morning,” he said, then paused in his tracks and backed up without turning around, to give them all another bow. “Good afternoon, even,”

“Shit, is it that late?” Ariadne blurted out, checking the time.

“Yeah. You had a chance to draft that letter to the suppliers?” Dylan asked pleasantly enough, looking exasperated.

Callum looked from him to Ariadne, who pulled a face first at him and then turned to Dylan, saying, “It’s taking a while but I am working on it. It’ll be done by the end of the day.”

“Is…there a problem?” Callum asked politely. He had realised quite quickly that by virtue of being friendly with everyone around the castle, he effectively had eyes and ears in every wall. It came in handy when trying to tackle a variety of different challenges.

Dylan looked at Ariadne, who stared back fixedly.

“I…wouldn’t want to burden you.”

Callum spread his hands – trying to look Princely and capable despite the fact he was shirtless and covered in Brock’s poultice. “I invite you to speak freely and with candour.” Rayla sniggered unhelpfully after a long pause. “You be quiet,” he pointed at her without looking. He imagined she rolled her eyes and leaned her head back, judging by the way her weight shifted, but he didn’t check.

“Well…” Dylan shuffled sheepishly. “We’ve been trying to get more supplies in before winter. Especially since we’ll be accommodating more medics in a couple of weeks. The…couriers couldn’t get the stock in, and we’ve sent maybe five different letters to the suppliers asking about the missing stock.”

Callum calmly looked from Dylan to Ariadne, who gazed back glumly. “I _really_ didn’t want to bother you with this bullshit.” She added apologetically.

“Five letters, and they still haven’t pooled together the stock you need?” he asked slowly.

“They didn’t even reply,” Dylan said sheepishly.

“Actually, Demeter did receive a scroll this morning,” Brock told them, nodding to a bench on the far side of the room.

“I don’t even want to _know_ ,” Ariadne said scathingly as Dylan went to have a look.

“Yeah…” he said slowly, pouring over its contents. “You don’t. It’s not very helpful.”

“May I?” Callum asked evenly, trying to remain a neutral party in this.

It wasn’t especially helpful, as Dylan had said, and Callum got the distinct impression that the author of the letter was dancing around the issue of the elves being present in the castle. Something along the lines of ‘we can’t get the stock you asked for together at this time’, and making a vague reference to the fact that they were unlikely to be able to supply herbs for the ‘visitors’ to the capital that said ‘visitors’ would find acceptable.

“Do you have the dates for when you sent your letters?” he asked carefully, guessing the answer.

Ariadne twisted on her stool and pointed to her sea of paperwork. “It’s all in that pile over there.”

“May I see it?”

She made to get up, but Rayla held up a hand from a distance to stop her. “I’ll get it.”

“You don’t have to-” Ariadne began.

“Save your leg.”

“ _Fuck_ my leg,” Ariadne snarled angrily. She must have been pissed off about something, because it usually took more than that to elicit such a response.

Dylan caught his trail of thought, and gave her a smarmy sort of smile and put his hands over his heart. “Oh, I think we should just be friends.”

Callum smiled vaguely, trying not to dissolve into laughter with everyone else. Ariadne fixed Dylan with a steely gaze, the corner of her mouth twitching. She pointed a menacing finger at him.

“Watch your back.” Was all she said. Then, to Callum as Rayla handed over the bunch of papers, added, “Good luck with that scrawl that passes for handwriting.”

Ariadne was dyslexic; reading was a laborious and long exercise for her, and her own writing was barely legible if you didn’t know how to read it. His stepfather, who happened to be her godfather, had once said it looked like someone had dipped a spider in mead, then a pot of ink, and then sent it scurrying across the page – a story Ariadne had liked so much she had adopted it.

Callum gave it all a cursory glance, his mind turning things over. The language in the letter the head medic had received was enough to cause him concern; the length of time since the first request for more supplies solidified his resolve to do something.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he sounded more menacing than he had intended. He saw from the corner of his vision Dylan signing ‘told you so’ at Ariadne, and she just shook her head at him.

“Only if it doesn’t interfere with Council business.” Ariadne said lightly, turning back to the pile of notes before her. “I know you have a thousand and one things to think about,”

“When the medical suppliers can’t be bothered to write back after three months and five letters, it _is_ Council business,” he said firmly.

By the time Brock released him, Callum had a good idea of who needed to be disciplined, how, and in what order. He was thinking through what he needed to say to Opeli, halfway down the corridor already, when Rayla touched his hand. He turned to her with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, it looks like I’ll be busy with this mess all afternoon.”

“I’ll find some way to stay occupied,” she gave his hand a squeeze and kissed his cheek. “Promise you’ll take it easy?”

“Promise.” He kissed her lips in reply, unable to keep himself from smiling.

XOXO

That night, Rayla woke up suddenly, heart hammering in her chest. A thin film of sweat clung to her brow, and tears stained her cheeks.

The awful images of the nightmare faded rapidly in the gentle light of her room. Torch light filtered under the crack of the door, and moonlight streamed in through the open window. She drew a ragged breath and jumped out of bed, to jittery to try and sleep again.

Everything continued to build inside Rayla until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Even as the nightmare sank back into the recesses of her mind, the emotions it had stained her with didn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Runaan had looked at her on the rooftop, and the way he had looked at Callum when he could lift his head again after being released. How she had felt when the representative of the Silvergrove Council had confirmed she was still banished, after everything she had done for them…

And the lost, bewildered way her mother had looked at her as she had tried to getup off the floor; someone Rayla had always thought of as strong, implacable, _unbreakable_ , reduced to…

She grabbed her hair and resisted the urge to pull. She _had_ to get out of here. Rayla grabbed her boots and pulled on a borrowed cardigan before she launched herself at the window and pelted for the nearest roof. A few people on duty at this late hour noticed, but everyone was more or less used to it, and Rayla was moving way too fast for them to notice she was in her sleep wear.

It was in record time that she made it to Callum’s window and knocked urgently on the glass. Her heart quivered painfully when he didn’t respond, and she tried again before leaning up against the window to see inside. The bed was empty and unmade, so she swung over to the next window along and tried again with the same response. Trying the latch, Rayla found it open and she let herself in, tumbling without much grace over the table in her anxiety.

“Callum?” she winced at how shaky her voice sounded, but there was no answer.

Rayla ran over to the couch, found it as empty as the bed, and rushed towards the study. She stood in the doorway dramatically, leaning over as she tried to catch her breath, suddenly fighting to not laugh.

Callum was slumped against his writing desk, facedown in a pile of papers, snoring quietly as the pen in his nerveless hand slowly capsized. Rayla carefully padded across the small space of the room and put her hands on his shoulders. He was going to have the most awful crick in his neck if he stayed there all night. Very gently, she shook him and said his name again.

“Mmm…oowhu…?” slowly, he roused himself, sitting up in his chair and blinking stupidly in the guttering light of the dying candle. He must have fallen asleep while he was writing something, because the ink had dried against his cheek, sticking the parchment to his face.

Rayla fought down the urge to burst out laughing, briefly pressing her fingers to her lips before she reached over and tugged the paper. “You got a little somethin’ on your face,”

“Whut?” Callum asked, yawning widely, and then groaning when he saw the mess on the sheaf of paper. “Oh _no_ …” he ran both hands through his hair, staring at the dozens of things that hadn’t been checked off his to do list. “How late is it?” he squinted up at the candle, and slumped again in defeat at seeing how low it was burning.

“After midnight.” She told him gently.

“How long were you waiting for me?” Callum asked, laying a hand over her own left hand on his shoulder, giving her a squeeze.

“Just got here.” She admitted, hoping he was too tired to put two and two together and come up with four.

Callum rubbed his eyes with a sigh and slowly heaved himself out of the chair, wincing and clutching at his neck. “Well _that_ was a dumb idea…”

Rayla supressed a crooked smile and didn’t say anything, instead taking his hand and helping him to stand up. The smile fell when Callum turned around and really looked at her, noticing her night clothes.

“You…okay?” he asked tentatively.

“Not really.” She batted back, willing her balled fists to relax

“Wanna to talk about it?”

“Nope.” She dropped her eyes, suddenly unable to bear his understanding gaze.

“Okay.”

Rayla felt his hand on hers, and without looking up she turned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands took up a familiar position: one on the small of her back, the other her shoulder blade, his arms forming a protective circle around her, and she just leaned into him.

“I don’t want to be alone.” She mumbled into his scarf, eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, kissing her hair.

Rayla drew a deep, ragged breath, trying to stem the flood of tears she could feel pulsing behind her eyes.

She _knew_ she had a lot to be grateful for. And yet she felt utterly miserable right now.

“It’s late,” Callum said gently, drawing back enough to be able to look at her. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Not trusting herself to speak, Rayla nodded silently, and let him lead her to the bedroom. She kicked off her boots and crawled under the covers while he got undressed; the sounds were familiar, and the pillows smelt like him. Then Callum got into bed as well, and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling truly comfortable again.

Part of her wanted to admit that she was afraid to face _any_ elf, let alone a Moonshadow elf, but she couldn’t find it in herself to voice this feeling. She had promised to help Ezran and Callum however she could – and they had asked her to help with this. Her heart felt tender and bruised, and she wasn’t sure how many more blows it could take before it threatened to shatter completely.

“Hey,” Callum said gently, brushing a hand across her cheeks, and she realised she was crying. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Rayla took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m so scared.” She admitted, in a tiny voice, burrowing deeper into his arms.

“Shh,” he murmured, kissing her hair before burying his nose into the tangle that had been a braid earlier. “Right here, right now, you’re safe.”

How did he always know what she needed to hear? It made Rayla smile, shaking her head gently, a strangled chuckle managing to make its way past her lips. She snuggled in when he curled himself around her, and when sleep eventually settled over her, it was deep and dreamless.

XOXO

Although Rayla didn’t know it, far away at the Storm Spire, her mother couldn’t sleep either. Tiadrin lay with her back against Lain’s, staring at the nearest wall. It was usually a very comfortable arrangement, but it brought little succour tonight.

Eventually, when the waning moon was at its apex in the sky, she slid out of bed, careful not to disturb her husband, unable to stay still any longer. She left their room in the barracks, barefoot despite the sharp cold of the stone floor and the turning seasons. The air was taut, still; practically prickling in anticipation. Even if she couldn’t feel the atmosphere becoming laden and heavy, the way the Dragon Prince was bouncing around would have signalled the approaching storm.

At the far end of the next corridor was an opening to the sky outside, just big enough for an adult cloud dragon to slip through. Tiadrin looked up into the night; a thick bank of clouds was brewing on the eastern horizon, and the moon was a few slivers shy of half, glowing amid the myriad of stars. This high up, it was easier to pick out the different colours – the stars were so bright and clear this close to the pinnacle. Tiadrin had always thought it was beautiful, would go for walks to clear her head while the moon watched, but it brought her no comfort tonight.

She found her hand on the necklace underneath her nightshirt, and supressed a sigh as she gently lifted it up so she could spring the latch open. Ethari had made it for her when Rayla was born, and it was beautiful; a silver moonlily, delicately enamelled with pearlescent colours that shimmered and quivered in the moonlight. Inside was a small lock of hair, from the last haircut Rayla had had before they left her in Runaan and Ethari’s care so they could join the Dragonguard.

Tiadrin tried not to think about where her daughter was now, what she might be doing. It still hurt. Tiadrin wedged herself into the side of the opening and watched the stars slowly turn in the sky, the moon sliding across the horizon towards its set. When it was low in the sky, Lain came looking for her. He didn’t say anything, he just put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze when he saw the pendant in her hands, understanding her grief tacitly. He wedged himself into the other side of the opening, and nudged her foot with his own, offering her a small smile.

She managed to return it, not speaking because she felt too brittle to use her voice. They sat for a while in silence, and when Lain moved, he still didn’t speak, for which she was grateful. He leaned forward, holding a hand out to her, his expression calm. He had always been better at dealing with his emotions, it almost made her laugh as she reached for him.

They sat side by side, legs hanging over the edge of the Spire, watching the sky turn grey in readiness for the coming dawn. Tiadrin finally made a sound; a sigh, before she turned her face and hid in Lain’s neck, clutching the necklace to her heart. He lifted a hand and gently covered hers, running his thumb across her knuckles as his fingers curved around the warm metal in her hand.

He didn’t have to say it out loud, because she knew what he meant.

He missed Rayla, too.

And he didn’t quite know what to do with the feeling, either.


	4. Closer to Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owing to a restructure in my living arrangements and renovations being conducted under social distancing conditions as per pandemic protocol, it took longer than anticipated to get this chapter finished and edited. I’ve also spent some time restructuring my notes for this story so they’re more cohesive and easy to look up, so I’m less likely to make plot holes xD at least in theory, we’ll see how it goes. Hopefully updates in the future won’t take so long!

It wasn’t _quite_ snow season, but it was getting incredibly cold very quickly, and Rayla was having to get creative when she went for a run to avoid slipping on the frost covered stones. The first mishap had sent Callum running after her in alarm as she slid neatly off the roof top she had been scaling and into the pile of barrels down below. Her pride was bruised more badly than her elbow was, mostly because Soren had seen her, and once he was sure she was all right, had spent the rest of the week laughing at her over it. Callum wished sometimes she wasn’t _quite_ so reckless, but she wouldn’t be Rayla without that devil-may-care attitude. He begged her to, at the very least, think before she leapt.

She had scoffed in his face and leaned over, making him back up a bit. “You know I don’t think. I _feel_.”

“And _I’d_ feel a lot better knowing you weren’t about to break your neck every five minutes,” he had retorted evenly, fighting the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks. He had a Council meeting in fifteen minutes, in a hall that was a twenty-minute leisurely walk from this courtyard. Flirting was a _bad_ idea right now, and being late to meet the Neolandian delegates would be even worse. Rayla didn’t say anything, but she gave him his favourite smirk and left him alone to wallow in his emotions.

Underneath that brash, bravado of hers, he knew she was getting wound tighter and tighter with anxiety. She may have been naturally reckless, but it was markedly more pronounced when she was stressed. He tried his best to be supportive, but it was difficult to know what to provide when Rayla herself didn’t quite know what she needed. Small things like telling Ezran loudly that he had the list of Xadian delegates, and left it on the middle of his dining table where Rayla could see it and take a look if she wanted. Things like making sure he didn’t take on any more meetings or tasks on top of his required duties, and either staying close to his rooms and study, or in his favourite corner of the library, where Rayla would always be able to find him quickly. Annoying things like swiping the last of her favourite pastries from Barius so that he could give them to her in person (this plan admittedly was the most likely to backfire, but Callum still managed to pull it off with the desired result).

Callum was starting to feel like he was asking too much of Rayla regarding this visit from Xadia. She had insisted it was fine when he first brought up the issue with her, that she was more than happy to help him and Ez with ‘diplomacy’. A lot of the talks about this visit were tied into the plans for the Summit in the spring. Janai would be arriving with the other elves, and was going to play a heavy hand in that planning. Callum eventually wouldn’t be able to get away from the topic, and he worried that he would be dragging Rayla into even more emotional turmoil over her parents, the strained relationship she had with Runaan, and of course that stupid hearing she would have to attend. He felt like he had backed Rayla into a corner, and didn’t know how to extricate her from the stressful situation without pricking her pride, or just making things worse for her.

When it came to their sexual relationship, they both had their share of hard no’s, and one of Callum’s was the insistence that they weren’t intimate if one or both of them was angry or upset. It was probably a product born of his paranoia over avoiding taking advantage of Rayla’s emotional vulnerability; they were admittedly a lot better now at communicating with each other than they had been as teenagers, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about it all the same.

So when Rayla propositioned him two days before the expected arrival of the Xadian party, Callum was just a bit reluctant to acquiesce. He told her this, as delicately as possible, very aware of how she was cuddled up against his side on the couch in front of the fire. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking in that direction himself this evening, but…

Rayla groaned and pressed her nose against his throat for a long, comfortable moment before she drew back and lifted her chin so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Of all the idiots I could have fallen in love with. It had to be the one with _principles_ ,”

Callum smiled back sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just…” he shrugged helplessly, and leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as she cupped his face and kissed his cheek. It was a slow, lingering gesture, that settled comfortably in his belly.

“Has it _never_ occurred to you, that sometimes I just want meaningless sex?”

“Right before a really stressful event?” He countered evenly.

Rayla sighed and hid herself in his shoulder. “I dislike you sometimes.” She grumped eventually.

Callum chuckled and pulled her closer, kissing her nose before snuggling into her embrace as deeply as possible, her head tucked under his chin. “Thanks, I love me too.”

“Ever the optimist.” She said lightly.

After a long, comfortable pause, Callum said tentatively, “Rayla, I just want to make sure you’re all right. I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you…”

Rayla snorted derisively, giving him a series of pokes in the shoulder, avoiding the scars on his chest. “Sure. Because _you’re_ the one usin’ _me,_ because _I_ asked _you_ to sleep with me.”

“Hey,” Callum argued back, face flushed. “But in using _me_ to deal with your anxieties, you’re making yourself vulnerable to me, and I don’t want to take advantage of that,”

She paused, and he imagined she had delicately raised an eyebrow. “…What _the fuck_ are you on about?”

“In using me, you’re letting me use _you_ …by…using me?”

“Wow. That’s _deep_ …” Rayla said with a tone that suggested she was smirking.

Callum winced, and pressed his face into her hair, chuckling a little nervously. “Would you believe, that sounded a lot better in my head?”

Rayla heaved a theatrical sigh and pulled back so that they were looking each other in the eye again, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her face close to his, noses touching, and gave him a defeated smile when she leaned back slightly. “Kissin’ you would be a bad idea right now.”

“Would it?” he murmured, flexing his fingers to stave off the urge to start tracing patterns on her ribs.

“I’m not gonna force you into bed if you really don’t want to. But if I kiss you, it’ll be even harder to stop,”

Callum considered the situation carefully before making a decision. Clearly, Rayla was in complete control of her emotional faculties – and she had a point, sex _was_ a nice stress reliever. And as much as she liked to proclaim that she simply wanted a quick orgasm, he knew it was impossible for her to commit the act with him without there being at least _some_ romance in the equation.

Very gently, he touched her cheek, stroking the lines on her face and smiling when she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Callum tilted her chin upwards and kissed the mark under her other eye before letting his nose slide across to the space just below her ear. Rayla’s breathing hitched slightly at the gesture.

“If I say yes…are you open to a compromise?”

“Anythin’…” she breathed.

Callum kissed her neck. “Foreplay. And Romance. Those are my terms.”

“Yes.”

Callum blinked. “And…my lady wishes to bring _what_ to the negotiating table?”

“I just want _you_.” She said stubbornly.

He sighed and drew back to give her a sardonic smile. “This isn’t how negotiations are supposed to work. You just agreeing to my demands without bringing any yourself _kinda_ sort of makes me feel like I’m taking advantage of the situation here.”

Rayla raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Sure. Because gettin’ you to have sex with me wasn’t _at all_ what I was after.”

She had a point there. While Callum was struggling to come up with a more coherent argument, Rayla’s gaze scanned across the room, and a smile crept across her face. The kind of devastating smile that left him weak kneed and predisposed to give her anything she asked of him. Given his pathological need to have her fully informed and affirmative consent at any given moment in time, he knew he was just a _bit_ hypocritical…

“Y’know, maybe there _is_ somethin’ I want…” she said slowly, tracing a finger along the line of his cheekbones.

“What?” he murmured, staving off the urge to kiss the palm of her hand.

Rayla tilted her head towards the fireplace, her smile deepening. “So… I’ve had this fantasy a while now. About makin’ love on a soft blanket, by the fire side.”

Callum blinked slowly, turning the possibilities over in his mind. This was a new one to him, but a few ideas were already springing to mind. “Where did this one come from?” he asked softly, kissing her cheek, _just_ missing the very corner of her mouth.

“Uhh…”

He pulled back to look at her, and saw her cheeks were a pleasant shade of red. “Oh no,” he simpered. “I’ve hit a nerve.”

Rayla smiled at him shyly, and looked away, twisting a lock of her hair around a finger. Whatever else happened, and no matter how much she blustered or tried to seize control tonight, from that one gesture he knew he had her: hook, line, and sinker.

“I…may have taken a closer look at the hearth in the Banther Lodge. And thought…it would be quite nice to have you, on that rug.”

It was Callum’s turn to blush. “Yes.” He had meant to tell her he wanted tonight to be romantic, but it got lost on the way to his tongue.

“So…” she traced a line from his wrist to his shoulder, following the scar on his arm through his shirt. “If I asked you again, if you want to have sex with me tonight…?”

“Give me a couple of minutes,” he murmured, cupping her face with both hands and kissing her mouth tenderly.

Rayla smiled and let him go. Callum bounced up, doing a really bad job of hiding his excitement, and grinning when Rayla rolled her eyes at him and stretched her arms very deliberately above her head. She continued to preen herself while he ran around, gathering up the things he needed; blankets and pillows from the bedroom, the special resinous incense from the sideboard, and finally a bottle each of massage oil and lubricant.

When he had set everything up on the rug before the fire, he threw a handful of incense into the fire itself, and turned to look at Rayla with a smile. She was sprawled out on the sofa, her body shown off to best advantage. It made his pulse spike again pleasantly.

“Should I get the sponge…?”

“No need,” she stretched again luxuriously, and slowly got to her feet. “I came prepared,” she gave him that predatory smile of hers.

“My, aren’t you an optimist?” he held a hand out to her, and let her pull him to his feet.

“My aren’t _you_ predictable?” she countered, mimicking his tone of voice as she leaned in to kiss him. “And if I asked for somethin’ more…?” she added coyly.

“I’d do anything for you.” He murmured without thinking.

Rayla’s lips pulled up in a small smile, and she stroked his face. “Now you know how _I_ feel. But,” she added, kissing his brow tenderly. “I appreciate it. I know you’d never deliberately set out to hurt me. And you’re too paranoid to end up hurtin’ me by accident, most of the time.”

Callum closed his eyes and leaned into the contact. He loved just how much she understood him, sometimes better than he did himself. His stepfather had once said that was how Callum’s mother had made him feel – and it really was a wonderful thing to behold himself.

“Just…” she murmured, a frown creasing her brow.

“Yes?”

She gave him an apologetic smile. “Promise me you’ll tell me if it hurts?” she touched the scars through his shirt, and he covered her hand with his before bringing it up to his lips.

“I will,” he told her with a smile.

The last thing Callum did before he started removing Rayla’s clothes was to lock the door, just on the off chance someone wanted to speak with him this late in the day. Then he turned his full attention to his lover, intent on indulging in her for the whole evening. They spoke a bit, mostly to tease and flirt, and to check in with each other before proceeding with each escalation. Callum didn’t say it explicitly, but he tried to show it with every gesture; that she was important to him, special and kind and so incredibly gorgeous. And so very worth the perceived bother her well being presented to him.

Callum wasn’t much of a healer, but he knew enough to give a good back massage. And because he liked to be annoying, he turned the practise into foreplay, tracing runes and Draconic letters against Rayla’s skin, enjoying the way she shivered under his hands. The intention was originally for her to return the favour, but when she rolled onto her back Callum couldn’t resist and leaned down to kiss her deeply. His mind didn’t quite catch up with his actions until after he had kissed his way down her body and settled between her legs. He blinked, and looked up to see Rayla balancing on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at his sudden hesitation. Licking his lips, Callum smiled impishly. “Is this okay?”

“Gettin’ carried away there?” she asked with a smirk, inclining her head for him to proceed.

“My lips,” he said softly, dipping down to press against her body, “just _love_ getting way ahead of me, where you’re concerned,” he threw his head back and laughed when she flopped backwards with a groan, clapping her hands over her eyes.

“What’re you _like…_?” she grumbled under her breath.

Callum scooped his arms underneath her legs so that they slid over his shoulders and pressed his mouth against her again intimately, enjoying the way she gasped and reached reflexively for his hair. “I’m unbelievably sexy,” he told her with a purr.

“You are _su-_ uch a doof,” she tried to keep her tone even keeled. It just spurred him on even more, and soon she was trying to keep the steady stream of moans and whimpers in check, very aware that there were a pair of guards just down the corridor.

Of course, Rayla got her own back on the matter, when it came his turn. Callum couldn’t think straight when he was on the receiving end of oral sex; he tried his absolute best to be relatively quiet, but it was a losing battle. She traced delicate spirals against his hips, before running a hand up his stomach. He quivered underneath her light touch, and whined when she dug her nails into his skin. After what felt like an eternity of sweet torture, Rayla sat back on her heels and gave him a self-satisfied smirk, running a hand over his knee.

“Are you ready to proceed?” she asked sweetly, feigning innocence.

Callum was just a little bit embarrassed by the sound that came from his mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had meant to say, but it sounded desperate and undignified – the opposite of the kind of person he had been trying to be for the kingdom all week. Very slowly, he sat up, chest heaving, belly curling in anticipation.

Giving him a chance to collect himself, Rayla sat behind him and rubbed his shoulders, and Callum leaned back against her.

“I don’t tell you often enough how wonderful you are.” He murmured dreamily, tilting his head back when she went in to kiss his throat.

“You could stand to mention it a bit more often,” she teased, scraping her nails against his sides in a straight line from his hips to his arms. That was her way of signalling she wanted to move faster, but she brought her hands back down to his hips again, letting him know she would wait him out if he needed it.

“So,” he said lazily, eyes closed and just enjoying the moment. “Where do you want me?”

“Mmm?” she questioned wordlessly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as she caressed his stomach.

“Your fantasy. By the fire side,” he gestured needlessly at said fire. “What would you have of me?”

Rayla took a moment to decide before she kissed him just below the ear. “On your knees.”

Callum was more than happy to oblige, and once he was where she wanted him, Rayla threw a leg over his lap and got ready to position herself.

“Would you like to use the lubricant?” Callum asked, and Rayla groaned with exasperation. “It’s that nice stuff from Xadia. Little bit of Moon magic,” he tried to wheedle.

Rayla growled into his shoulder. “It’s all the fuckin’ way _over there_ ,” she gestured wildly over her shoulder without lifting her head. “I don’t want to move!”

“Just a thought.” Callum said lightly.

Rayla chuckled, a deep sound that resonated in her chest. She slowly pulled herself up and took his face in both her hands, and kissed his nose before leaning forward to nuzzle against him. “Thanks for the concern, but you’ve done a pretty good job tonight. We don’t need it.”

“While your faith in me is flattering, it’s kind of nice to use every once in a while.” He said, affecting the kind of air he might use at Court to avoid giving offense – except he smiled deviously at her. True, he usually could prep her body just fine without needing extra assistance, but it never hurt to be too cautious, and some lubricants (like the one somewhere over her shoulder) where designed to enhance sensations. That one in particular felt quite amazing if you held an open connection to the Moon arcanum while using it.

Rayla gave him a flat look, leaning back enough so that he got a really good view of her body. “Are you _quite_ done?”

“Yup. Please, by all means, take me whenever you’re re-ahhh!”

She chose that moment to couple their bodies together, and Callum held her close, whimpering at the contact. He was already breathless when she kissed him. “Shut up. And fuck me,” she commanded.

“B-bit difficult,” he gasped, trying to adjust to the position. They usually made love like this on a mattress, where he had a bit more leverage compared to the solid, unmoving floor under him now. “When I’m the- the…”

“The what?” she asked teasingly, deliberately flexing her abdominal muscles.

“Oh Gods…” Callum moaned. He loved Rayla, and he loved being this close to her, sharing this beautiful, pleasurable intimacy with her. There was little room in his mind for coherent sentences anymore. “R-recei-ver…”

Rayla held him gently, cuddly almost, and kissed his cheek. “You’re hopeless,” she murmured softly, stroking his face.

“I’m yours,” he said, as emphatically as his hazy lust would allow.

Rayla laughed, that low throaty sound that reverberated through her whole body, and did wonderful things to his own. “Too right,” she crooned before kissing his mouth again.

XOXO

The day Rayla had been dreading dawned cloudy, cold, and threatening a mixture of rain and sleet. By unspoken assent, Ezran joined Callum and Rayla for breakfast, and the two brothers talked about anything but the impending arrival. Soren bounced into the King’s Study and provided a distraction for Rayla to snipe at. She was feeling quite a lot better by the time they were getting ready to leave, having had a wrestling match with him while Callum belatedly tried to stop them. In the end, Ezran had to straighten his crown, draw himself up to his full and considerable height, and tick them both off in his best Kingly voice.

Didn’t stop them from sniggering and hurling insults at each other as they walked down the corridor. Despite the long-suffering look Callum threw her when she smiled at him very innocently, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze, and she squeezed back. Soren had diverted her attention only briefly, but she focused on it as they went down to the main courtyard. It was a cold comfort, but she reminded herself that despite losing the Silvergrove, she had gained a lot of friends (and by Katolian custom, extended family).

The four of them were among the first to arrive, after Opeli, who was sitting on an upturned crate reading a book. She smiled and stood up to bow and go through the usual pleasantries before going back to reading. Corvus did a surreptitious sweep of the courtyard, looking beleaguered when Soren tagged along. Rayla didn’t follow suit, thinking the poor Head of Security was suffering enough without her input. And of course, no sooner had Brock appeared then Callum was chatting away animatedly, having thought of something last night and wanting to run it by a more experienced Earth Mage. Rayla stayed close to him until Amaya arrived, then she kissed Callum’s cheek as she told him where she was going, and felt comforted by the fact that he subsequently split his attention between Brock and her whereabouts.

Amaya looked positively giddy. She was always so strong, calm, _solid_ – it was funny to watch her get excited. Her resemblance to Ezran at a Solstice celebration was uncanny. Rayla leaned over to Gren and asked, “Wanna place a bet?”

Gren looked away, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“It takes less than two minutes for her to throw the first punch.”

Gren rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh. He folded his hands behind his back and straightened himself up. “I couldn’t _possibly_ comment,” he said amiably.

“Or,” Rayla went on, grinning. “Janai throws her sword at her first.”

Amaya caught this last comment and signed that Janai could _try_ to land the first blow.

Being one of the first to arrive had some advantages; while it meant being out in the cold and wet for longer, Rayla felt infinitely less awkward as more people came to the courtyard. It had always felt harder to join an existing crowd than it did to have a crowd build up around her. Almost like staking a claim, although to what she had no idea as she watched everyone gathering around, ready to greet their guests.

Rayla glanced towards the main doors of the castle, watching for Callum and Ezran under the pretext of scanning the nearby rooftops. Ezran was talking to Serena, who had bundled herself up against the cold almost comically with multiple layers. Callum was now talking to some members of the Lower Council, looking rather serious about something. Then Jenny and Nate walked over, straight backed and professional looking until they got into position, and then Nate shot Rayla a sly smile, while Jenny just sagged against her halberd. And then Marcos strolled by looking very pleased about the whole arrangement, and very casual out of his uniform.

Rayla raised an eyebrow at his plain brown tunic and thick, dark red Xadian boots. “Commander, you’re dressed down for the occasion.” She said mildly.

Marcos beamed. “I’m off duty today.”

“The Commander is pleased to be seeing his girlfriend again,” Nate said teasingly. “What?” he snapped at Jenny, who was giving him a hard look, trying to communicate something. “You can be rude to a Commander when _they’re_ off duty.”

Rayla watched in silence alongside Marcos as Commander Fen marched up behind Nate and cleared his throat loudly. The poor guy jumped out of his skin and scrambled to pull some semblance of a professional soldier back together.

“As you were,” the Commander said stiltedly before walking away, nodding to Amaya as he went.

Marcos sniggered at Nate’s expense; Rayla pressed the back of her hand to her mouth for a brief moment to collect her sense of decorum before she looked at Jenny. The woman scowled back, with the kind of face that said: _that’s_ what I’ve been dealing with all morning.

“Well, _I_ can be rude to a subordinate when I’m off duty.” Marcos said, pretending to think about at as he stroked his chin.

“What does the elf say?” Jenny asked sardonically.

“Pfft. No comment.”

“Oh, did you run out of witty things to say?” Nate grumbled into the back of his shield.

“Nope. The General’s lookin’ _right_ at me.” She waved at Amaya, who signed for her to come over. “Better go see what she wants.”

Amaya got her to help marshal everyone into order; diplomats and delegates in one loose group, Medics and Healers in another, with the military flanking them on both sides. Amaya didn’t give Rayla specific instructions regarding herself, so she figured that meant she could choose where to stand – next to Callum felt the most comfortable, and he gladly made room for her, pushing Viscount Tarren out of the way to do so. He was an anxious man in his forties with dark hair and very fair skin, who seemed to be fixated on Callum’s attention and approval on all sorts of matters, and was forever plaguing the Prince with questions and requests. Callum made sure to keep Rayla close and plant himself firmly in between her and Lord Tarren, and smiled gratefully when Lord Karim managed to manoeuvre him completely out of the way with a few polite words aimed at his ego. It meant Rayla had a few precious minutes to talk to just Callum, letting him lead the conversation (rambling about this idea he’d had for when he was allowed to use Sun magic again) so she didn’t have to think; simply react, and just _be_.

Then the call came up that the travellers from Xadia had crossed the bridge, and were about to enter the courtyard at any moment.

Rayla gulped. She felt suddenly quite sick, like she had done when she’d found herself banished. She didn’t feel ready for this.

Callum’s hand squeezed hers, and his elbow brushed against her as he leaned in her direction. She didn’t look at him, but she gripped his hand tighter and bumped her shoulder against his in acknowledgement, feeling more grounded for the contact.

The first to come into sight was Janai, seated on a horse instead of her hotcat mount. She looked tired from the long journey, but beamed as brightly as the summer sun when she saw them all – only refraining from waving and calling out because ‘royal protocol’ and all that. Rayla glanced sideways at Amaya, who stood with her arms folded and grinned back at the Sunfire elf like the heavens above had parted and the sun was shining on her.

There were a handful of familiar faces; Sabah found Marcos quickly in the crowd and did wave, not being bound by protocol. A Skywing elf who briefly reminded Rayla of Nyx sat up in the saddle and waved manically at Brock, who laughed and returned the sentiment. All the Sunfire warriors recognised friends and allies among the Katolian soldiers present, and everyone exchanged smiles and grins as their eyes met. One Earth mage on the group’s left flank caught Callum’s eye and they waved at each other merrily.

When she saw the flash of white hair and a Moonstrider threatening to rear up at the back, Rayla looked away, heart hammering painfully. She didn’t get a good look at who was in the saddle, instead focusing on Janai, who drew the group to a halt and gracefully slid out of the saddle.

The ‘royal protocol’ was brief and to the point – mostly because Ezran was dying to get a hug from Janai, who had all but adopted Amaya’s nephews. Words of greeting were exchanged from both sides, in the respectable and arcane languages of each side to better reflect the gravity of the occasion; each acknowledging the other and expressing wishes for proceedings to be mutually beneficial. Rayla resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and kept her gaze on Janai, aware of Callum standing by her side, running his thumb over the back of her hand.

Ezran spoke the final words of the Welcome Speech, and everyone bowed to each other according to their own customs, and as they were all straightening up Janai peeked over her crossed arms, beaming brightly as Ezran grinned at her, practically bouncing with excitement. She stood up with a laugh and held her arms out to him, and he all but broke into a run to greet her properly.

It was hard to not notice the way a lot of people looked on in surprise – and just a bit of alarm, in some cases – as the King flung his arms around the elven knight with a delighted laugh. Callum squeezed Rayla’s hand, and she turned from scanning the sea of human faces to look at him. His gaze flickered to Janai and back, silently asking if she wanted to come with him, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

“I cannot believe how much you’ve _grown_ ,” Janai was saying to Ezran, having to take a step back and crane her neck to look at his face at close quarters. She turned to Callum as they drew level with her, smiling and grabbing him in a big hug. “Ohh, it is so good to see you all again,”

“It is,” Callum hugged her back tightly with a grin. “We’ve missed you,” he said as he drew back a bit, turning to share his smile with Rayla.

Janai held a handout to her as well, and she reciprocated the embrace with a grin of her own. “I hope it was a pleasant trip,” she said airily, effecting the tone of a courtier which had Janai laughing.

Someone tapped Rayla on the shoulder, and she stepped back with an amused smile as Amaya made a show of brushing her out of the way so that she could hug Janai herself. Contrary to all the predictions, they didn’t throw any punches or weapons at each other in those first few minutes, and Rayla turned her gaze away politely when Janai kissed Amaya’s cheek, wanting to give them a moment of privacy. She took Callum’s hand again and cast a cursory glance at the rest of the elves; Marcos and Sabah were embracing, Brock was swinging his friend around in a bear hug while Serena watched on in amusement, and Gren was talking to the Sunfire guards as he shook their hands and reiterated the warm Katolian greeting.

Focusing on Brock as he started walking towards them, Rayla turned away from the Moonstrider, who was threatening to rear up again, making those close by skitter aside nervously. The Healer waved Callum over, and he gently took Rayla with him after turning to briefly check on Ezran. His brother was just fine, chatting animatedly with Sabah and shaking another Sunfire elf’s hands with that wide-eyed sincerity that could crack open any heart, leaving the elf just a little dazed with his open friendliness.

“ _This_ ,” Brock said dramatically, spinning on his back leg to gesture at the Skywing elf, who had her arms folded and a look of amusement on her face. “Is the infamous Nia!”

“And a pleasure it is to meet you all,” she said with a polite bow, adding her wings to the gesture to give it more weight.

Nia wasn’t especially tall, and wore relatively dark clothes in the style most fliers used for comfort and convenience, as well as warmth at high altitudes. What struck Rayla most about her was the fact that she was all varying shades of storm tossed grey; dark hair shot through with wavy streaks of a much paler tone, and her skin a middling hue that made her white mage marks stand out all the more starkly. Her eyes were a flinty blue-grey, and she carried herself with the kind of confidence that spoke of being completely comfortable in her own skin.

“And a pleasure to finally meet Katolis’ Archmage. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Nia said pleasantly as she held her hands out to shake Callum’s.

“Have you?” He looked startled, albeit very briefly.

Nia’s smile was bright, and she flicked her left wing out to clip Brock in the face as he started laughing. She pulled it back in as he reeled dramatically off to the side, flicking her gaze at him for a moment before turning her full attention to Callum. “My Uncle raves about you. He wishes all his students could be so attentive and observant,”

“Ahh, you mean Ibis?”

Rayla froze when she heard her name, spoken in a very familiar accent, and resisted the urge to spin round and reach towards her swords for defence. Instead, she turned slowly to meet the speaker, hoping her gaze was level and her posture unreadable. Her heart gave a strange kind of leap, and she wasn’t sure if she was happy to see her classmates again, or devastated.

There were five Moonshadow elves in total, three of whom she knew. Malra had been her next-door neighbour before she went to live with Ethari and Runaan and was two years older than her. Aibeck was Rayla’s age and had briefly trained with her under Runaan, but he had sucked at pretty much everything assassin related, and had subsequently gone on to train as a Healer instead. The last one was Hem, who was Runaan’s youngest cousin, and came from the Feywood; Rayla hadn’t seen him since she had been about ten, and only recognised him because of his distinctive, wavy marks and his bright, light blue eyes.

Rayla’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she just stared at them. She had grown up with them, Hem was basically extended family; she had sat beside these two in school and run the training gauntlet with Aibeck. And he and Malra had performed the spell to banish her from their home. Whatever calm and rational justification that centred on circumstantial evidence, or boiled down to cultural context that could be offered, it was a simple and brutal fact, and it hurt deeply.

Aibeck smiled nervously, using the excuse of the cold to keep his arms crossed firmly over his chest. Malra held her hands by her sides and looked stone faced, which was usually taken among Moonshadow elves as an ill-disguised attempt to hide emotions. Hem looked agitated, though with him it could be hard to determine the source of discomfort at the best of times. The youngsters were spared the awkward task of bridging the chasm between them by the eldest Moonshadow elf walking up to Rayla and speaking the traditional, polite and formal greeting.

All of this happened in a relatively short space of time, and Callum – ever sensitive to Rayla’s emotional state – noticed her distress and turned away from his conversation as quickly as was polite, and took her hand again, clasping firmly. Malra’s plum coloured eyes flickered down to the gesture, and then she took a half step back when she brought them up again and found Rayla staring her down. Rayla had come up against a fair amount of resistance to her relationship with Callum over the years, and she liked to make a loud point about not being ashamed or trying to hide it from anyone. Under different circumstances, she might have snapped at Malra defensively, but that would not be overly _diplomatic_ in this context.

Callum smiled his politician’s smile, the one that usually annoyed Rayla but right now she was grateful for his calm and stately demeanour; it covered up whatever blunder she was at risk of committing. He bowed his head, hand over his heart, and replied to the proffered greeting in their own language. Rayla bowed her head as well, just a bit pleased with the way the other elves looked rather shocked to see a human Prince understanding their customs and speaking their tongue, albeit with a very distinct accent.

Ezran, bless his big beautiful heart, also came over to rescue her. He managed to lead the introductions, giving names and asking for theirs in return with that easy-going nature of his. And in true Moonshadow fashion, the five of them took longer than would have normally been considered polite to respond, because none of them knew what to do with Ezran’s demeanour. Or the fact that human royalty was talking to them directly in such a friendly, borderline casual manner.

The other two Moonshadow elves were called Amren, who also came from the Feywood, and Sylvie who hailed from the valley of the Midnight Thicket. The former had the typical long, sparingly braided hair of the Feywood, and the latter had very dark skin, very pale marks, and chin length hair pulled into tight fishbone braids starting above her temples and ended a couple of inches behind her horns, which were bedecked with rings and fine chains of silver. She also had the most gorgeous, lyrical valleys accent when she spoke.

Just as things were becoming unbearably awkward and tense between the younger elves, the Moonstrider reared again with a frightened snarl as one of the Ocean mounts snapped at them, and Malra spun without a second thought to tend to them. Aibeck rolled his eyes upward and rubbed his temples.

“That _bloody_ mount…” he sighed loudly with exasperation.

Hem looked at him, and then his gaze flickered to Rayla’s face, and they both looked away quickly. He jumped a little when Amren placed a hand on his shoulder, but looked a lot more steady. Rayla mused internally that maybe they had all been just as worried about seeing her again as she was.

The Moonstrider continued to kick up a fuss until Malra reached them, and then settled down immediately once she placed a hand on their muzzle. That piqued Rayla’s interest; Malra had always been set to be an academic, as far as she knew. Now Malra looked like an experienced animal handler. She felt Aibeck’s gaze and turned to look at him instead. He smiled nervously again and then coughed to clear his throat.

“You look…well.” He said lamely.

Rayla tried not to frown. She was very aware of the fact that the sparse jewellery she was wearing was Katolian, as was the cloak over her Xadian tunic. She didn’t look especially Moonshadow in her attire – and instead of making her feel more secure about her position and place in the wider world, now it was just another stabbing reminder that she wasn’t a part of the Silvergrove anymore.

At the sound of her name again, this time from Gren, Rayla turned in his direction and saw him beckoning, signing across the noisy space between them that Amaya was after her.

“I’d better go see what the General wants,” she said with a contained sigh. She smiled when Callum gave her hand a squeeze, and kissed his cheek before she turned and left the group, not looking at their faces to see their reactions to her open display of affection. On her way to Amaya, Rayla had to skim around a gaggle of Tidebound elves who all looked to be Healers. She nodded to Serena, who looked up and smiled at her as they passed each other.

Amaya turned to her as Rayla drew up alongside her and Gren, and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Then she waited for Janai and Gren to divert attention away from them, and fixed Rayla with a meaningful look before asking if she was all right. She had to take a long moment to think of how to translate the word she wanted into a sign, and finally settled on ‘surviving’ with a rueful smile. For a long moment, Amaya didn’t move, just looked at her; then she clapped Rayla’s shoulder forcefully and started giving a list of instructions, telling her to help get the soldiers and knights to the barracks and settled in, and to take as many idiots of Katolian origin to help as she wanted.

Rayla gladly turned towards the task, catching Mattrim’s eye as she went in search of Jenny and Nate. Soon she had a handful of people helping her, including Marcos and Sabah, who were both only too happy to assist in the endeavour. Despite every effort Rayla put into what she was doing (talking to people, coordinating activities like unloading and carrying bags, figuring out who was sleeping where and getting them there), she couldn’t help but notice when the Moonstrider acted up again, and that Malra and Sylvie moved swiftly to calm the mount, who seemed to _really_ not like crowds. She also noticed, from the very corner of her vision, the way Malra and Aibeck exchanged meaningful looks when they thought no one was watching, and Rayla turned away when she saw the helpless little shrug Aibeck made in answer to some question she couldn’t hear over the general noise of the crowd.

Taking a moment to ground herself, Rayla took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. She had stared death in the face multiple times, helped to end wars and topple crazed Archmages, had dragged a bouncing baby dragon across the continent, and arrived at the other end in one piece. She was _not_ going to be unhinged by a bunch of elves, who were barely older than her and had probably never left the Silvergrove, much less the Moonshadow Woods, until now.

She didn’t need to think beyond the next task, the next person to talk to, and she could just sit in the moment and react to the things going on around her. It was what she was best at. Squaring her shoulders and solidifying her resolve, Rayla walked across the courtyard with her head held high.

XOXO

The first couple of days were pretty difficult. There were leaders and mages to meet and greet properly, many more guests to see to the comfort of, and yet more plans to make for the spring. Callum tried his absolute best to be free as often as possible for Rayla, but it was hard amongst all the meetings.

Not to mention all the usual stuff that went with running a kingdom; the fireworks incident had damaged a couple of barns, and issues with the weather had meant crops from the northern counties had suffered over the summer. One county in particular, called Verdeshire, was requesting assistance for the winter, which also just happened to be land that King Harrow had bequeathed to Callum. He was essentially the landlord, so any official decisions fell squarely on his shoulders and no one else’s. Amid everything else going on, he was trying to make sure the people living on the land he technically owned were provided for in the event of a hard winter. The Councillor of Verdeshire had only just put in his request for help – after the stock take of the kingdom’s resources had already been made, and plans for how to divvy up supplies to those in need were already well under way. Callum had come by the letter in question when he made a brief stop in his study to grab his notebooks for the first big meeting with their Xadian guests. He had thought it was the absolute _last_ thing he needed, but Rayla overheard his groan of exasperation, and dropped her own anxieties to focus on him, and he reconsidered the sentiment.

All in all, it was enough to make any sane person’s head explode.

Then again, as Soren and Rayla liked to remind him on a semi-regular basis, Callum wasn’t a normal person.

When the first meeting ended and the socialising began, Callum hovered close by wherever Rayla happened to be in the crowd, and she stood by his side for a while, engaging in conversation and – quite honestly doing a good job at being a diplomat, though he knew she wasn’t completely comfortable with that title. Glancing across the hall, Callum couldn’t help but notice that the other Moonshadow elves were watching Rayla on and off, and with some intensity. And while she did her best to carry on as normal, he could see it weighing on her heavily.

They hadn’t spoken about it, but Callum had guessed by the accents that two of the elves were from the Silvergrove, and most likely had known Rayla growing up. Trying to be sensitive to her needs, Callum had refrained from bringing it up with her until she broached the subject first. So when Rayla abruptly excused herself from the conversation and left the hall swiftly, he tried to wait a decent length of time before he went after her. He may have dithered and waited even longer, but Soren caught his eye, stared pointedly at the door she had left through, and signalled the question of whether someone should go after her. Thinking that there were few people Rayla would want to see right now, Callum nodded his assent and signalled that he would go. He didn’t think Soren’s particular brand of compassion would be well received right now.

Rayla was leaning heavily against the stone railing of the nearest balcony, breathing deeply, and her response to his presence was to snap that she was, in fact, _fine_. Wary but undeterred, Callum paused for a moment so that she had time to collect her thoughts before he spoke.

“You don’t have to talk about, or say anything,” he began, hands up in surrender as she scowled over her shoulder at him. “I just wanted to let you know, I’m here. If you need anything…”

Rayla groaned and rubbed a hand over her face, messing up the hair on the right side of her head as she went. After another long pause, she said glumly, “I don’t know. I really don’t know…”

Tentatively, Callum edged closer, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Rayla slumped forward, and when he made to move closer, she turned around and slid her arms around his waist, burying herself into his embrace. He just held her for a long moment, and eventually Rayla sighed and lifted her head so that her nose brushed against the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

“This is a lot more stressful than I thought it would be.”

Callum swallowed painfully as he pressed his cheek against her hair. “I’m sorry,” he offered in a small voice, and winced when Rayla laughed softly.

“It’s not your fault.” She said quietly.

“It’s not yours either,” he shot back, a lot more passionately than he had intended.

Rayla didn’t take offence to his tone, and they stayed there a while longer, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The throbbing ache in Callum’s chest was steadily deepening, but he ignored it for now. Rayla could curse him out over it later – she was what was more important right now. He waited for her to be ready to end the hug before he spoke again, giving her all the time she needed.

“You don’t have to go back in there if you don’t want to,” he said carefully.

Rayla passed a hand over her eyes and fought down a grimace. “I _really_ don’t want to. But I feel like I should.”

“I think most of the military were getting ready to leave anyway. You’re helping Amaya more than Brock and Demeter, you don’t have to hang round,”

Rayla leaned back enough to look him in the face without stepping away, and pressed his hands. “Do _you_?” she asked, not meeting his gaze.

Callum had to think for a moment about that. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll do one last round of the hall and meet you back here. Is that okay?” She made a noncommittal noise, refusing to meet his eye, and Callum lifted her left hand to his lips. “I could honestly do with a break from duties, too.” He smiled ruefully.

Rayla’s gaze darted to his chest, but she didn’t say anything. “If you’re sure,” she said, somewhat offhandedly, and he smiled.

Callum leaned in and kissed her cheek, deliberately lingering before he said, “Positive.”

Doing ‘the rounds’, as his stepfather had called it, meant making a circuit of the room and talking to everyone in a brief and polite burst of conversation, staying to converse with the more senior politicians and diplomats for longer. He gave himself fifteen minutes just in case someone wanted to have a longer conversation, but in the end he was only floating around for nine minutes. By the time he got back people were already leaving in a steady stream, and it was relatively easy to excuse his absence – especially when Brock sidled up and politely enquired after his health and casually dropped it into the conversation that he was in charge of the Prince’s recovery from an old war wound.

That helped, but also may have caused Callum some problems. There were a handful of humans from the other kingdoms, more or less his age, and all children of officials and extended royal families. Brock managed to make Callum sound way more bad ass than he really was, and just a couple of the young adults looked at him with renewed interest. One young woman attempted to flirt as Callum was finishing up his duties, and as he recognised from her jewellery that she was one of the closer cousins to the throne of Evenere, he had to navigate the situation delicately. He was thankfully saved by Brock, descending upon him as soon as he noticed Callum rubbing at his wound thrice in quick succession, and whisked him out of the hall before the poor woman could so much as blink.

Once away from prying eyes, Brock gave him a gentle and good-natured shove down the corridor, saying, “Go to bed, and if I catch you in the library this afternoon-”

“It’s fine, I get it,” Callum said loudly, arms up in surrender. “I’m going. I’m so going that I’m already _gone_ ,”

He rounded the next corner and walked straight into Rayla, who was giving him her best sardonic smile.

“Dummy.” She told him, folding her arms once she had righted his balance.

Callum gave her a sappy smile and kissed her lips gently. “Your dummy.”

Rayla sighed, and smiled again when he took her hand, and they quietly walked towards his rooms, taking a circuitous route to avoid bumping into people. Once there, she flopped unceremoniously onto the sofa with a groan of appreciation, and Callum went about making tea. He had to go scraping around the cupboard to find enough spearmint leaves to make her favourite concoction, but he managed it.

There was a knock on the door as he was getting ready to pour the tea, and Callum shot Rayla an amused look as she cringed away from the sound and hid underneath one of the cushions before dragging herself up into a more respectable posture, looking very grumpy and kind of cute with her rumpled hair. It was, to their surprise, Ezran – looking a bit wilted.

“Can I come hide here for a bit?” he asked, his small tone not matching his tall stature.

“Come in,” Callum stepped aside and he flopped into the room with a sigh of relief. “I just made tea.”

“What’s in it?” Ezran asked, shuffling in the direction of the table.

“Mint and chamomile.”

Ezran looked put out; his favourite was strawberry, and as Callum wasn’t in the habit of drinking lots of tea except for medicinal purposes, he had ended up amassing Rayla’s preferences. Despite this, Ezran gladly took a cup and curled up on the sofa beside Rayla. Bait shuffled along the back of the couch and grumped in Rayla’s ear, so she leaned up and rubbed him between the eyes.

“How’s m’favourite hero today, then?” Bait squirmed happily under her caresses, and she scooped him up to dump him on her lap. “And how’s m’favourite King doin’?”

Ezran groaned. “I don’t wanna talk about it…”

Callum paused as he set a tray on the drinks table in front of the fireplace. “Did something happen after I left?”

Ezran sighed and pulled himself upright before sipping his tea meditatively. “There must have been about five people asking to have a meeting with me after the social was over. I just went and locked myself in my study and then slipped out after the third person banged on the door.”

Callum turned this over in his mind. “You need a hand?”

“No.” Ezran took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I want to go five minutes without someone calling me ‘Your Majesty’ or asking me to look at streamers or something else _really_ unimportant.”

Rayla held an arm out dramatically before pulling him in for a closer hug. “Come join the ‘I don’t give a shit anymore club’,”

“Rayla,” Callum admonished her. They both swore – Rayla far more frequently – but he still couldn’t quite let go of the idea of Ezran being his baby brother, who he had to set a good and straight-laced example for.

Ezran gave Callum an amused look as he snuggled into Rayla’s side. “I’ve seen far worse language than that.”

“I know.” He said heavily with a wry smile. “I need to have a word with Aunt Amaya about that.”

Rayla gave a prolonged snort of laughter, and Callum rolled his eyes. He could only imagine the abuse the General gave on the training grounds when she was in a bad mood.

Callum then poured himself a cup of tea and snuggled in on Rayla’s other side. She rolled her eyes and complained briefly, but he knew she secretly liked being a pillow. If Callum didn’t cuddle up with her during sleep, he would wake up to find her wrapped around him instead. In short, she was a lot more tactile than she ever wanted to let on – and the two brothers were soft and squishy by nature.

It wasn’t long before Callum started to doze off, and he sat there for a while in a comfortable stupor before the pains in his chest blossomed into sharper pangs. He tried to be discreet as he stretched and attempted to ease the aches, but of course Rayla noticed. He gave her an apologetic smile as she looked at Ezran, who had capsized onto her lap and fallen fully asleep there. She watched Callum like a hawk as he got up to get his medicine, and held an arm out for him to snuggle in again when he came back to the couch.

“I know it’s a moot point, but…” she murmured into his hair after she kissed his ear. “Take it easy, won’t you?”

“I’ll try.” Callum mumbled back, and then squeaked when she tweaked his other ear between her fingers.

“I mean it.”

“Yes, dear.”

Ezran yawned widely and folded his arms. “Go have sex somewhere else. Not in front of your King.”

Callum felt his cheeks flush, and Rayla poked Ezran hard in the ribs. “You’re not _my_ King.” She said stubbornly. “I’ll kiss m’big dumb boyfriend wherever I like.”

“I don’t wanna hafta listen to you two being _mushy_ …” Ezran grouched back, waving his arms around to try and block her attacks, and failing because he was half asleep and because, well…this was Rayla.

Callum sighed with exasperation as she fought him one handed (her weaker hand at that) and it ended with Ezran toppling off the sofa with a yelp onto the floor, and almost taking a teacup with him.

“ _Guys_ ,” he rubbed his fingers into his temple. “Please at least _pretend_ to act your age.”

“I’m a kid!” Ezran flopped his arms onto the cushions beside Rayla, and then gave Bait a hard look. The glow toad had seen the opportunity to settle himself in against Rayla’s side when Ezran fell over, and he gave the boy what Callum thought was a challenging look. _No one_ could out do Bait in a staring contest.

“You’re fourteen and a King.” Callum said evenly as Ezran came down to Bait’s level and tried to stare him down.

Bait gazed back steadily, and flicked his tongue out to scratch an itch on his brow, eyes never wavering.

Ezran narrowed his gaze in return, like he wanted to cry cheat but knew he didn’t have the grounds to do so just yet.

“Have they always been like this?” Rayla asked casually, kicking her leg up to cross over the other, and leaning her head against Callum’s.

He smiled and snuggled into her arms. “Pretty much.”

“He may have started it.” Ezran stated. “But _I_ will finish it.”

Rayla yawned widely and leaned into Callum, running a hand through his hair, the other arm braced over the back of the couch.

“Good luck.”

Ezran pulled a face at Bait, but it was clearly directed at her.

The strange conversation continued in this manner for the remainder of the afternoon. They ate dinner together in private, away from everyone and everything else; it was really nice to have a breather from protocol and duty. Being collectively drained from the last few days, they all said good night early in the evening, and Rayla curled back up again on Callum’s sofa in front of the cheerfully crackling fire, with seemingly little intent of moving.

After a long and incredibly comfortable silence, Rayla grunted, prompting Callum to open his eyes blearily and nuzzle into her hair.

“Hmmm…?”

With a dramatic sigh, Rayla said, “I want stress relief. But I’m too agitated for sex.” She scowled at the ceiling. “It’s _annoyin’_.”

Callum chuckled quietly, and she scowled at him instead. “Would my lady like an early night?”

She gave him a look that was _almost_ but not quite pleading. “Do you mind…?”

“Of course not,” he kissed her nose and gently pulled her to her feet.

As they got into bed, Callum was struck with a thought, and he waited for Rayla to get comfortable before he acted on it. Very tenderly, and slowly so that she had time to react if she didn’t want it, he ran his fingers through her hair, and touched one of her horns. She nuzzled into his shoulder, so he slid his fingers along the hard surface down to the base, where it connected with her skull and the skin was very sensitive. Applying gentle pressure, he started massaging her scalp, and Rayla sighed contentedly, tilting her head into his hand.

“This okay?” he asked quietly.

Rayla’s reply was to slip over his thigh so that she was lying between his legs, spread eagled over his chest, and hum her contented approval. So he brought his other hand to her head and mirrored the caresses against her other horn; he felt her relax completely against him, and Callum smiled. The horn beds were quiet sensitive, and horns in general were considered a close part of an individual’s personal space. Outside of necessary medical practises, touching someone’s horns was a very intimate gesture shared only with close friends and relatives. Moonshadow elves in particular were very reserved about who got into their personal space.

When her breathing evened out and became deep, Callum gently brought his hands down to rest on her shoulder blades. He started a little when he felt her eyelashes flutter against his collar bone, and she said, “And _why_ did you stop?”

Callum chuckled and stroked her hair placatingly. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Nope.” She shuffled around and slung her arms haphazardly around his neck, pressing a lopsided kiss to his throat. “Just incredibly comfortable…”

“Does my lady wish for me to continue?” he asked, light and teasing.

“If His Princilyness doesn’t mind,” she said carelessly, not able to keep the sleep completely out of her voice.

Callum kissed the crown of her head and resumed the scalp massage. While it was comforting and gentle for Rayla, it was doing Callum a lot of good, too. The weight of her body against his chest eased the pain in his wound, and he guessed that she was listening to his own heartbeat as she drifted. Knowing she was comfortable and felt safe took a great weight off his mind. He really hoped that come the summer, after the Summit and all its drama was over, things would settle down completely and they could focus on the future, together.

The massage continued even after Callum thought Rayla had fallen asleep, just in case, but soon enough his hands faltered, and he was stifling yawns. He fell asleep with his fingers slipping through her hair, forgetting to move in sync as he lost consciousness. Rayla cracked an eye open at the change in pressure. She smiled to herself as she felt his lungs settle into the rhythm of deep sleep beneath her, and his pulse beat steadily against her nose. She snuggled into his lax embrace, too contented to move, and dozed off.

XOXO

The corridors stretched on forever into the gloom. His staff felt heavy and useless in his hands. He could hear that hateful, smooth voice laughing at him. Creatures crept in the shadows, eyes glowing. He could hear people screaming, hear voices of those he loved begging for the pain to end; Rayla’s voice was loud and defiant, but it was broken off with a choke, and Callum ran.

No matter how far or how fast he tried to move, everything slowed down, glowing with Star magic. He panicked and lashed out with his staff, shouting something backwards and the magic imploded on him. He tried again, but whatever Draconic words he used, it came out distorted and warped against his will.

 _“You will be mine,”_ said the voice.

 _“No,”_ Callum begged. _“Please, no,”_

Aaravos snapped his fingers, and Callum spun around clumsily, like he was wading through water. And there was the mage, smiling that bored, enigmatic smile that belied his ruthless and calculating nature.

_“You will join me, mage. Or you will lose everything you love.”_

_“Just run! GO!”_ Rayla shouted, even though he couldn’t see her.

 _“Tell me, boy.”_ Aaravos said, leaning casually against the wall of the cave they were now in, examining his nails with a bored expression. _“Is she really that important to you? Would you throw true love aside, just for the sake of the rest of them? Tell me she isn’t everything to you,”_

Callum shook his head, trying to get the voice out of his mind. His chest was aching, _burning_. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t leave her. He had to do _something_.

_“If you do as I ask, I will let you both live. You will have everything you ever wanted,”_

Callum took a step back as Aaravos walked towards him. He was held in place by something he couldn’t see, that wrapped around him like strangling vines.

 _“A purpose in life. A station in society, all your own. You will never have to rely on your little brother for protection again. Your talent, your_ life – is _magic. You will be the most powerful human in the history of the world. And, you will have the love of your treasured companion.”_ Aaravos delicately touched Callum’s cheek, and he pulled away from the contact, gasping.

Something was creeping in his veins, something sick and diseased. His heart was pumping frantically – it was going to kill him, he had to slow his heart down, or it was going to spread-

He saw with awful clarity for a brief moment, exactly where the toxins in his body were, but Aaravos made the mental map disappear with a lazy wave of his hand, smiling that awful smile. It was the smirk of one who knew he had every ace in his hand, every piece on the playing board under his control, and he was going to have his way.

 _“She is beautiful,”_ he admitted, examining the staff in his hands. It was the one Callum had grown up watching Viren use. He split it in half, and the one in his left hand became the staff Ethari had given him. _“So beautiful. And so fragile. So…_ easily _broken,”_ the smile took on a vicious edge.

 _“Please no,”_ Callum begged. He bowed his head. He remembered this fight; remembered Rayla telling him she wasn’t worth it, that the world was more important, to just leave her behind. Her voice was echoing in his head now, telling him to go. A part of him knew this was just a replaying of those awful memories, twisted and amplified almost beyond recognition, but it was tearing him apart to relive that horror as though for the first time, completely paralysed.

Aaravos touched his face again, and he couldn’t pull away. He had to stare into those fathomless eyes; teeth gritted, heart beating erratically, as the elf softly tilted his chin this way and that, searching his face for answers.

_“Will you do it?”_

Callum sobbed. _“Just kill me instead.”_ He begged, asking to trade his life for Rayla’s, and heard her screaming at the back of his mind, begging Aaravos to release him, to let him live, to take her instead. It was killing him slowly from within, worse than the creeping fire in his veins. _“Don’t hurt her.”_

 _“Then, boy. Give me what I desire, and I will let you both live.”_ He snapped his fingers, and Rayla’s voice cut off abruptly.

Callum struggled against his bonds, frantic.

 _“I can always find some more…practical uses, for the pair of you. Starting with your beloved companion. Did you know, if you powder a Moonshadow elf’s horns, it makes an elixir that can turn you invisible, at any time other than the dark moon?”_ He spoke like a teacher, standing before a class full of bright pupils who listened with rapt attention. _“And, I’m told, if you pluck their hearts out while they still beat-”_

Callum made a fist and tried to punch him. Everything moved with nightmarishly slow speed, and Aaravos gave him a bored, unimpressed look before smiling wickedly and reaching out with quick ease to grab his hand and push up, back, and then downward, hitting every vulnerable pressure point on the way.

_“All this unpleasantness can be avoided. If you simply do as I ask. Does Rayla mean nothing to you?”_

_“She’s everything to me,”_ Callum sobbed.

 _“Is she really worth more than the rest of the world? Or does she mean so little that you would not do_ everything _within your power to protect her?”_

Arms wrapped around him. Soft, warm, _tangible_.

**_Callum._ **

_“Don’t do this. Please,”_ Callum begged. _“Don’t make me choose.”_

 _“Why not?”_ a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. A fine blade ran along the jugular vein, like the mage was considering slitting it open. _“The world. Or_ your _world. It can’t be so difficult to choose.”_

Rayla wouldn’t agree. She would gladly give up her life if it meant the world could be at peace. Beautiful, daring, _reckless_ Rayla. And it would leave Callum broken.

But if he traded the world in order to protect her… She would never forgive him. She would fight until her last breath to right the wrong he had done. Callum was going to lose her no matter what he did. He knew what was right, and what was easy, and they were both suffocating him.

Something touched his cheek, smoothed the hair back from his face, and it wasn’t Aaravos’ hand.

**_Callum,_ **

Aaravos’ smile became even more vicious. Through his teeth, gently caressing the lines on Callum’s throat, he said, _“My patience wears thin. If you will not give me an answer, I will just have to…_ take _, what I need.”_

No Draconic sprang to his tongue; no clever plans presented themselves to him at the last moment. Aaravos kissed his cheek, and moved to stand behind him, hand still fisted in his hair, and Callum could see everything in front of him as clear and sharp as if they were standing under the midday sun, unable to look away.

Claudia had Rayla bound and gagged at her feet, her leg clearly broken. She snatched something from her satchel, eyes glowing and the words falling from her tongue – but forwards instead of backwards. Callum heard the spell in its entirety, understood exactly every facet of what had been done to him, knew the solution to his healing was _just_ within reach. The spell hit his chest, he cried out in pain – and Rayla didn’t react. She just sat there, hunched over, defeated. She didn’t lash out, didn’t find that last ounce of strength to kick Claudia and sweep her feet out from under her, like she was supposed to. She had carried Callum on her shoulder and her broken leg to safety, because she was Rayla and she could do _anything_ when she put her heart and her mind to it.

Aaravos was standing next to them both, even as he still stood behind Callum and held his head in place.

 _“The world’s gain, my dear boy,”_ he murmured tenderly into Callum’s ear. _“Is your loss.”_

The soft feeling on his face brushed against his consciousness.

**_Callum!_ **

The Aaravos beside Rayla knelt down and lifted her head up to expose her throat. It was a fountain of blood, and Callum screamed. He tried desperately to reach her, crying out her name, begging her to stay awake, to stay with him. Aaravos looked at him dispassionately before plunging the bloodied knife into his chest. It was fire and metal and poison all over again, burning him from the inside-

“Callum, wake up!”

He jerked, and lunged forward, headbutting Rayla’s chin as he went. They both recoiled from the contact, reeling in different directions in the dim moonlight that filtered through the heavy cloud cover in the window. Callum stared at her, hardly daring to believe it had really all just been an awful dream. Rayla rubbed her chin and gave him an annoyed look that evaporated instantly when she saw his expression. She reached towards him, and he flung his arms around her waist before burying himself in her arms, sobbing hard.

“Shh,” she murmured, stroking his hair gently. “Just a dream. He can’t hurt you.”

Wide awake, the horrors of the nightmare sank bank into the dark recesses of Callum’s mind, and his tears turned to those of relief. He remembered with vivid clarity that they had both survived, that Rayla had got them both out of there and had got him to a Healer.

“I thought I’d lost you…” he mumbled into her shoulder, letting her hold him like a frightened child. The only other people who had held him like this were his mother, stepfather, and aunt. Maybe his birth father had too, but he had been far too young to remember.

“You didn’t,” Rayla said gently, stroking his hair. “It was just a dream.”

Callum frowned. Something was dragging at the edge of his mind. Something vastly important – and the more he tried to focus on it, the deeper it sank into some dark corner of his subconscious where he couldn’t find it anymore. He couldn’t help but feel like his dream had been trying to _tell_ him something, but whatever it was, it was gone.

Rayla brought a hand up to caress the back of his head, and leaned forward to press her lips against his brow, and he buried himself deeper into her embrace. She just held him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back until he found some stability.

“Okay?” she asked quietly, trying to get him to meet her gaze.

Callum gave her a very small, very rueful smile. “Yeah…” he winced and pressed a hand to his chest.

“Does it hurt?”

Callum _meant_ for his tone to be light and airy, but it came out sounding strangled. “A bit.”

Rayla insisted on washing the wound and treating it with the latest poultice, and then dosing him with another tincture to relieve the impending headache that pounded inside his skull. He felt pretty wretched, needing so much coddling, but he appreciated it; she didn’t make any snarky comments beyond swearing at him when he tried to get off the bed and collapsed in a heap instead.

When she crawled back into bed and held an arm out in an invitation to cuddle, Callum curled up against her side and wrapped his arms around her securely. He thanked her, his voice a bit rough, and she just pressed a kiss to his temple. For a while, neither of them spoke, until Rayla voiced the question of whether he should go see Brock in the morning.

“It was just a dream. A really bad, scary dream.” Callum sighed heavily. Then, after some thought, “I should probably go see the therapist.”

“If you think it’ll help,” Rayla said.

“Maybe…” Callum had _thought_ his dream had been loaded with deeper meaning, but the longer he was awake the more he felt it had just been a facet of the nightmare. “It’s always good to have a top up.”

“True,” she tucked his head under her chin and stroked his hair after kissing his brow again.

It took a long time to fall asleep again; they were both a bit on edge, but they drew comfort from each other’s presence. Wrapped up in Rayla’s arms, Callum felt very safe, and it was easy to remember that she was also safe. Not a lot could go wrong in his rooms, and any intruder that got past the guards would get a sword in the face before they could cross the room. He smiled as he felt her fingers trail through his messy hair, before coming down to caress his ear. Rayla kissed his hair again and murmured, “I love you,”

He wanted to respond, but he was so tired his body failed to react before he fell asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal head canon until the show proves otherwise: Moonshadow accents are British, so in this story Silvergrove is Scottish, Feywood is English, and Midnight Thicket is Welsh. When more elves are present in the plot and I can come up with another and relatively original sounding place name, there will be an Irish accent too xD  
> I would also like to add that while I had some ideas before I started writing this story, I took inspiration regarding elf horns from a user on this site called spontaneite and their work called The Speculative Biology of Elf Horns. If you like biology/physiology, and academic writing, it’s well worth a read :)


	5. Art of Diplomacy

Two days later Callum was in Brock’s study as bright and early as the dreary weather and the Prince’s fatigue would allow. Rayla had desperately wanted to go with him, but she was stuck on training manoeuvres as per the General’s request. Callum was quite sure she had only let him go after promising dire retribution if he did anything stupid. And he _knew_ she would follow through with those threats if he actually did.

Brock was concerned but intrigued about the nightmare itself, and made a note of it, though neither of them could fathom anything from the sparse handful of details that Callum could remember; by then Callum was convinced it was simply paranoia. After much careful consideration, the Healer went crashing around looking for something very specific among his pots and potions. The noise drew Nia’s attention, and she stuck her nose around the lintel to check what on earth Brock was doing, and then she perched herself on the one clear patch of tabletop near Callum’s chair.

The elf gave him a wry smile, and ignoring the rampaging Healer said, “Good morning. I didn’t get round to saying hello the other day,”

“It was a bit hectic,” Callum said vaguely.

He had decided very quickly that he liked Nia. She had deliberately changed the course of the conversation the moment Callum noticed Rayla’s distress in the courtyard, letting him slip away without giving offense. She was also a Sky Mage, so they shared a certain affinity, as did all mages of given primal sources. Nia wasn’t above giving Brock grief over his messy and dysfunctional filing system, either. Ariadne had reported to Callum that Demeter, the head medic in the infirmary, had taken a shine to the Skywing elf, too. The old woman could be harsh and unforgiving, but she acknowledged hard work and effort, and gave respect where it was due.

“Pray tell,” she said loudly over folded arms, eyeing a tottering tower of textbooks that was threatening to collapse every time Brock rummaged through one of the boxes on the table beside it. “What _exactly_ are you doing? It sounds like your practising Earthquake Attacks.”

“Looking for the special tea…” Brock said, almost under his breath.

“That’s _so_ informative and helpful,” Nia said, in a tone that dripped with so much sarcasm that Callum couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“The special tea for lucid dreaming…” Brock muttered. He then tried to sit up with his head still under the main desk, and smacked his horns hard enough to prompt him to swear somewhat violently.

“Going on a little jaunt into the Spirit World?” Nia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope. I want Prince Callum to keep a dream log.” Brock dived headfirst into another box.

Callum dared to look at Nia, who just gave him a tired smile. “I’ve been putting up with this nonsense for nigh on half a century.” She said, laying on a weary layer to her words. Then, raising her tone and clearing the timbre of her voice, said, “What _exactly_ do you intend to achieve?”

Brock rushed into one of the cupboards, getting a bit more frantic the longer he went without finding his quarry. “The short version: Dark magic war wound causing post-traumatic nightmares. Human Archmage of all sources exhibiting dreams that may or may not be prophetic. We need _drugging_ mushrooms…”

Nia pulled a face and held up her hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” While Brock ran around like a madelf, she turned to Callum and said, “May I interject in your medical care?”

“If Brock doesn’t mind,” he said brightly, resisting the urge to rub at the wound through his jacket.

“Oi, Badger Face!” Nia barked at the sideboard that Brock had crawled into. “Permission to interfere?”

“What? Yeah, that’s fine, just clean up after yourself,”

“Fuckin’ hypocrite.” Nia said under her breath, and then caught herself when Callum laughed. She had been speaking in a _very_ specific dialect, and seemed somewhat amused and actually rather pleased that Callum had understood it. “I’ll be right back,” she slid down the stairs in one flowing motion, and by the time Brock came back to stand in the middle of the room and stare around in despair, she returned with a packet of tea leaves and a dried, withered root.

“Steady on,” Brock said, eyeing the root nervously. “I don’t want to be responsible for poisoning the Prince.”

Nia set the things aside and beckoned Callum over for a closer look. “My understanding is you have a special affinity for Sky magic?” she looked for confirmation. “I suggest _this_ ,” she handed him the packet of tea, “for remembering your dreams. _This_ one,” she produced another packet from her pocket. “Will help you sleep more easily, if any nightmares persist, but you won’t remember dreams as well. And _this_ ,” she hefted the root in her hands, and Brock again looked uneasy at the prospect. “Is the last resort.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Callum asked, noting the strange texture of the plant and the dark, deep red colour – something he’d only seen in books so far.

“Thunder Iris.” Brock confirmed. “I’m not comfortable with this.” He said to Nia.

“Well, you said drugging mushrooms. Only works when you’re an Earth mage.”

“Well, _technically-_ ” Brock began, but then he looked Callum full in the face, and gave him an amused smile. “Fine. Go, the pair of you float off into the sun set. I know when I’m not wanted,”

“The one problem I find with Earth mages,” Nia said as she carefully gathered everything up. “Is that they, more so than other magic users, are prone to tunnel vision.”

“And no spell casting,” Brock added as an after thought, and Callum wilted.

“I’m so _bored_ ,” he complained, feeling comfortable enough to not act like a savvy politician around Nia. If Ibis had told his niece the full truth about his student, there was little point in keeping up any pretences; she would know how clumsy he really was.

“Why not?” Nia asked in surprise. “A Mage needs to keep his hand in to stay sharp.”

Brock pointed an accusing finger at Callum’s chest. “I’m quite sure _something_ in there is feeding off of magic use. I want to be _quite_ sure of his safety before I let him loose to cast spells.”

Nia lifted her hands in a gesture of placating surrender. “We’ll let you get back to your duties.” She said, giving Callum the teas and keeping the root back. “This we’ll keep in reserve for now,”

“Anything I should be looking for specifically?” Callum asked Brock, holding up one of the packets.

“Keep your eyes closed and don’t move from the position you wake up in. Just go over as many details as you can remember and then write them down as quickly as possible. If there _is_ something in that noggin of yours,” he ruffled Callum’s hair amicably as he walked past. “We’ll find it. Now off with you,” he pushed Callum towards the door. “And take it easy.”

“Wow. That’s the least helpful thing I’ve ever heard you say to a patient.” Nia interjected loudly.

“He knows what I mean,” Brock mussed up his hair again, and Callum shot him a grin. “And he knows he can always get a sick note from me when he needs it.”

Callum gave him a flamboyant bow as he left, just to reiterate that there were no grievances to be had. He passed through the infirmary as stealthily as possible, pausing long enough to talk to Serena and gauge how things were going. Rather well, apparently, according to the Healer and judging by the laughter that rang out in the dispensary.

“Herbalists are strange creatures,” Serena commented before he left. “They bridge the gap between physicians and botanists. It’s all rather fun,”

That made Callum feel better, knowing that the Xadian team in the infirmary were settling in okay. He would have liked to have hung round longer to talk to the Healers himself, but his chest hurt, and he was worried about Rayla. Once he had stowed his new medicines safely, and found a spare notebook for the exercise, which he likewise stashed beside his bed, he went to find Rayla under the pretext of checking in with Janai.

Callum was under no illusion about being subtle. To the untrained eye, he was just another politician taking an interest in matters that affected the affairs of both the state and the Pentarchy. To Rayla, he was being a well-meaning busy body as he loomed in the background of the training grounds, talking airily to Janai and Sabah about their stay so far. He needn’t have worried; Amaya had set them some more fun tasks to complete as an ice breaker for all the soldiers to get to know each other and their customs. It meant a lot of opportunities for Rayla to show off, and her particular human soldier friends were egging her on; what else was Rayla meant to do under such circumstances?

They didn’t have a chance to speak then, but Rayla smiled and waved as she ran by on a broad circuit of the racing tracks (taking the opportunity to fall into a series of graceful, tumbling somersaults while she was at it, bouncing to her feet and bowing deeply before then legging it as a soldier rushed at her with an exaggerated battle cry, cackling as she went). Callum felt comfortable leaving her to it for now, but made sure she was close enough to hear him say loudly where he would be in three hours time, when the training session ended, before he left.

The rest of the morning was pretty dull. The highlight was Bait slurping up most of the refreshments after every round Barius made to replenish the food table when the first set of meetings ended. He knew damn well who was responsible, but he couldn’t say anything about it, and Ezran was in a bad enough mood that this small amusement made his day. Because of that, Callum didn’t have the heart to put on his big brother scowl and tell him to grow up and act more Kingly. He had been well behaved the rest of the morning, so he let this act of immaturity slide for now.

Come lunch time, Callum was sitting on a wall in one of the main courtyards, where he had promised to be, and sure enough Rayla appeared around the corner and made straight for him, mostly ignoring the other soldiers who she had been walking with. He noted that a couple of them sniggered and glanced in his direction, but the rest either disregarded their gestures or actively discouraged them and diverted everyone else’s attention.

“Thanks,” Rayla said gratefully as he held out a flaky almond covered pastry to her, and they sat side by side in amicable silence as they ate.

“How’s it going?” Callum asked casually, looking very deliberately at one of the Neolandian advisors, who was looking across the courtyard at them. The woman blanched and tried to cover up her indiscretion very clumsily.

“Your Aunt hates me.” Rayla said dully, shredding her pastry without mercy. “I think she’s got it out for me.”

“What happened?”

“Left me in charge of the baby recruits. Then had me runnin’ the circuit with the Sunfire knights. And then, would you believe I had to try and go tree climbin’ Earthblood style? I think she’s tryin’ t’find the perfect way to bump me off without gettin’ her own hands dirty.”

Callum snorted with laughter and passed the wine skin over so she could take a draught. “You know as well as I do that Amaya would do you the great curtesy of looking you in the eye if she had to take you out. And she’d do it herself,”

Rayla groaned loudly. “I hurt. Everywhere. I’ll never look at another damn tree the same ever again.”

Callum broke discretionary protocol to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her in close for a loving squeeze and kissed her cheek before pressing his brow against her hair. Let the Neolandians see him cuddling with his elven girlfriend; he technically wasn’t on duty until he walked into the throne room again, and there were no rules about public displays of affection on your down time.

“Y’know they’re watchin’?” Rayla murmured into his ear, head turned towards the woman who had been caught staring.

Callum smiled and kissed her ear. “I could _not_ care less.”

Rayla gave him the kind of smirk that had his heart skipping. “Excellent.” Her kiss was outwardly affectionate and chaste – what no one saw was the way she ran her tongue across his bottom lip, and applied _just_ enough pressure with her teeth to hint at the intensity of her desires.

“Would I sound terribly desperate if I asked you to bunk off for the afternoon with me?” he asked in a wheedling tone.

“Sure, why not? I’m open t’bribes. What’re y’offerin’?” she asked flippantly, smiling like she had already won the negotiation.

Callum paused for a moment to think, giving himself more time by reaching up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. In the full light of day, her violet eyes were very vivid; her lips twisted in an attempt to keep from grinning, trying to keep her natural proclivity for mischief under control.

He was a complete sucker for her, and they both knew it.

Callum was startled out of his intimate little bubble with Rayla when he heard Ariadne’s voice clear and sharp to his right saying loudly, “ _Mother_ fucker!” he caught Rayla’s raised eyebrow at this, and spun round clumsily on the low wall to see what was going on.

Ariadne was walking towards her service horse, who had somehow wandered this far into the castle away from the main stables. He was a gentle giant, part draft horse part question mark, with a skewbald colouration; the white splodges on his rump looked like smooth, round river stones, and so he had been dubbed ‘Pebbles’. She stopped short when a Moonstrider padded into the courtyard after him, and tried to back up, wide eyed and afraid as the mount walked right up to Pebbles and started nibbling his chin.

Callum was still scrambling to his feet by the time Rayla was walking towards Ariadne, to plant herself firmly in the way just in case the Moonstrider started acting up. He was fairly certain it was the one who had kept spooking on the first day; the feathery tail was dark purple, and there was a distinct notch in their left horn. Ariadne very happily slid into Rayla’s shadow, putting more distance between her and the Xadian animal.

“Are you okay?” Callum asked, touching her shoulder for further reassurance, noting that she was tapping the fingers on her right hand to cope with her mounting anxiety.

“How’d he get out of the stables?” Rayla asked no one in particular.

“Ah. I might know the answer to that.” Ariadne turned her head just enough to bring Callum into her field of vision, most of her attention still on the Moonstrider nosing at her horse’s neck. “Bunch of new apprentices. They haven’t learnt the subtle art that is keeping the doors shut properly.”

Callum folded his arms with a sigh and turned to look at the two mounts. The Moonstrider looked pretty chilled out; Pebbles looked, as he ever was, completely and utterly unphased by what was going on around him. There had been a known problem for years about one of the sets of doors in the main stables being uneven, no matter how many times they were fixed. Every time someone new started working there, the more escape prone horses started absconding until they learnt how to rig the front doors to remain shut. Nothing had ever been done about it, because that whole wall of the building needed to be seen to, which would mean having to move the horses out elsewhere in the meantime – and the timing for such a feat around other political goings on had just never allowed for the planning and execution of the project.

“We really need to do something about that.” Callum said dully, thinking about the logistics of it all. No wonder his stepdad had always ended up pushing it aside; right now, there was too much else to be dealing with.

Ariadne groaned and rubbed her face, mussing up her hair as she went. “Oh that _fucking_ horse. Look at’im!” she gestured at the calmly waiting cob, watching his human with vague interest while the Moonstrider groomed his tail. “A meteor could fall from the sky and his reaction would _still_ be ‘meh’.”

Callum suppressed a laugh. That was exactly what his stepfather had said of the horse the last time they had been in Katolis before the war. Pebbles was such a calm, placid, appeasing character; he was perfect for Ariadne, both for her physical and emotional needs. That a Moonstrider of a nervous disposition had gravitated towards him came as little surprise.

“You _really_ should get those doors fixed,” Rayla said to him over her shoulder. “I doubt anyone will appreciate havin’ all the Xadian mounts wonderin’ round the castle.”

Callum cast a glance around the courtyard, and couldn’t help but notice how a lot of people had scarpered, and those that remained looked very wary.

“Pebbles, you moron,” Ariadne told him with loving frustration. “I’m not against you making friends, far from it. But it _had_ to be someone with teeth, didn’t it?”

For a long moment, Rayla didn’t react. Then she hunched her shoulders slightly and tried not to snigger. Callum leaned forward and flicked her ear.

“Think you can wrangle them back to the stables?”

“Dunno. This one’s tricksy. And pretty nervous.”

Callum was both grateful and worried when he saw two elves streak past the main archway, and then one of them came back to stick her head around the lintel. It was the eldest Moonshadow elf, and she turned back to gesture for her companion to follow, who turned out to be one of Rayla’s contemporaries. The younger elf blanched when she saw Rayla, and for a moment Callum was convinced she was going to bolt, but she steeled herself and followed in her elder’s wake.

“So, Io. This is where you got to?” The beautiful lyrical quality of her accent triggered Callum’s memory; this was Sylvie, which meant the other must be Malra. “Givin’ us the run round today, are we?” Malra kept her head down, and Sylvie didn’t push her.

“I’m sorry,” Callum said loudly to draw their attention away from the defensive position Rayla had taken up. “It’s a known problem with the stable doors.”

“That and my horse is an obliging idiot.” Ariadne added.

“Reign the facetiousness in, _just_ a bit.” Callum asked of her in an undertone. She gave him a rueful smile and drew a line across her lips to signify that she was going to stay quiet.

They tried to get the Moonstrider to follow the elves back to the stables, but he was far more interested in Pebbles. In the end, to get the horse to move out of the way Ariadne used a command whistle to get his attention, and he very obligingly trotted over to stand by her side, waiting patiently for further instruction. That made the Moonstrider more agitated, because he started to follow in the horse’s wake, only to come up against an unfamiliar elf and a pair of strange smelling humans. Before he could get too anxious and start lashing out, Malra hurried forward and grabbed his halter, dragging his head down to her level and running a hand over his cheeks, speaking softly to him. Callum couldn’t hear exactly what she said, but he thought he recognised a couple of curses; a quick glance at Rayla’s twitching lips, threatening to smile, confirmed his suspicions. She turned around, taking her gaze away from her kin to look at Ariadne when she sighed, rubbing Pebbles’ nose.

“You are a source of great comfort, hilarity, and sheer _frustration_ , Pebs.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvie said politely, stopping a respectable distance away and bowing courteously while Malra soothed her mount. “Io’s of a nervous disposition. We were worried he might lash out if he got scared,”

“Well, it looks like he found the perfect companion,” Callum said with a smile, looking at Pebbles. The horse, having ascertained his human wasn’t in any great distress, was looking at the Moonstrider again with interest. “Pebbles is very easy going.”

“I can try walking him back to the stables too, if that’ll keep- him calm,” Ariadne nodded at the moon mount, struggling for the right terminology.

Io whimpered and crouched lower to the ground, prompting Malra to sit down cross legged with him and continue her soothing. Experimentally, Ariadne stepped in his direction, nudging Pebbles, who was always alert to her posture and expression at close quarters. The moment the horse was within nosing distance Io pricked his ears forward, muzzle twitching. Pebbles blew through his lips and nuzzled the moon mount’s ears, and Io whined happily, giving the horse a playful nip. Malra looked completely floored, and once she had gathered herself a bit she turned to Sylvie for guidance. All the older elf could do was shrug at her.

The Moonstrider was all too happy to follow the horse back to the stables, and Callum went with them just so that Ariadne wouldn’t feel too anxious being around strangers and a big scary Xadian mount on her own. And true to form, once the animals were safely tucked up inside their stalls, Ariadne swapped the name plates on the stalls so that Pebbles’ name was next to Io’s, and grabbed the nearest fresh faced youth on watering duty. She started a pleasant conversation, and at the first opportunity brought up the subject of the cursed doors. Callum turned around to find Rayla staring at Ari in something approaching amazement. He grinned and slipped his arm around her waist.

“She’s so _smooth_.”

“Occupational hazard of being the kid of a diplomat.”

“I feel like I need to watch m’self.”

“Oh, Ari’s mostly harmless.”

And, because she liked playing the wind-up merchant, Ariadne made a show of walking by primly, and hissing in a menacing undertone, “Or maybe that’s what I _want_ you to think.”

“Don’t you have a brother to be annoying right now?” Callum tossed carelessly over his shoulder.

“Probably,” she squinted at the rusty clock in the corner. “I should also be in the dispensary staring at paperwork.”

“Oh,” Callum turned to her fully, arm still wrapped around Rayla’s waist, though she was distracted by something else in that moment. “By the way. _Did_ the shipment come through.”

Ariadne gave him a sycophantic smile and a double thumbs up. “You don’t want to read the shitty letter I got with it.”

“Yes I do.”

“You _really_ don’t.”

“I _really_ do,”

Ariadne shook her head and rubbed her eyes hard. “I dunno…either you laid it on thick in your letter or this moron running the depo has the thinnest skin in the Pentarchy.” She waved her hands around before gesturing at Callum. “It’s bullshit. Pure and simple. Don’t trouble yourself with it,”

Callum wanted to press the issue, but he swung around when Rayla stiffened against him. Malra was leaving the stall, pausing to give Io a scratch and let him nuzzle against her neck as she surreptitiously checked that the stall door was securely shut. She then shot Rayla a furtive glance, and Rayla stared hard at the opposite wall. Callum glanced towards Sylvie under the pretext of checking the time, and saw her likewise looking in Rayla’s direction while she spoke to the stable master. Ariadne caught his gaze and flicked her own to the exit to tell him she was leaving, and seeing that she was tapping her fingers again he didn’t move to detain her. Instead, he brought his hand from Rayla’s hip to her shoulder and nonchalantly asked her, “Do you have a moment to discuss the General’s latest proposal?”

“Yes,” Rayla leapt on the escape he offered, as was practically dragging him out of the stables before he could come up with the next line.

They had almost left the courtyard when Sylvie called after them, and for a moment Callum was quite sure Rayla was going to bolt. When she forced herself to turn around and face the elf calmly, he took her hand and gripped firmly, feeling her squeeze back. Sylvie looked just as uncomfortable, but was better at hiding it; Callum could only really tell because he knew just enough about Moonshadow culture to pick up on those subtle social cues.

“We all came via the Silvergrove.” Sylvie said haltingly, and then in a rush as she held out a bound scroll, “Ethari asked me to give you this.”

Rayla lifted a hand, and hesitated for a long moment before reaching out to take it. Once the letter was in her hands Sylvie took a big step back, bowed, and disappeared back into the stables. Rayla stared at the roll of paper like she expected it to bite her hand off.

“Have you had lunch yet?” Callum asked quietly, gently leading her away from the bustle of the courtyard and all its watching eyes.

“No…” Rayla turned her gaze away, stuffing the letter haphazardly into her pocket.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Callum remembered how painful it had been to sit and stare at the letter his stepfather had written to him, and the torn feeling of wanting desperately to know what he had said but not feeling ready to read it. For the next couple of hours he tried to be supportive, but he could see it was weighing on Rayla’s mind as they grabbed a proper lunch and hung out in his study. He tried to cheer her up without asking directly if she was okay, because he knew it was the last thing she wanted to hear right now. In the end he got her to crack a smile by folding a piece of scrap parchment into a delicate swallow and using an illusion spell to breathe life into it before he sent it fluttering in her direction. Then it flitted a bit too close to a lit candle, and he yelped as he tried to rescue it and ended up nearly setting fire to the table by falling off the chair and tipping the candle over.

Once Rayla had saved the candle she loomed over him on the floor, barely hiding a smirk. He gave her a sheepish smile in response, and she rolled her eyes theatrically.

“Y’know,” she said, holding a hand out to help him to his feet. “Much as I appreciate it, I’d rather you didn’t hurt yourself tryin’ t’cheer me up. I’ll just worry about you instead, and if ye _really_ hurt y’self, where would I go for sex?”

“I’m glad to see where your priorities lie.” Callum said with a lopsided grin. It deepened into a smirk when Rayla ran a finger underneath his scarf before grabbing a fistful of the fabric and pulling him in for a kiss.

It escalated quickly; Callum was on his back, hands pinned to the floor above his head with Rayla straddling his hips, kissing him passionately. He was a bit concerned that she was using this to distract herself from the letter and the other Moonshadow elves, but he wasn’t prepared just yet to deny her something that made them both feel comfortable and safe.

Rayla pulled back just enough so she could speak against his lips. “Please tell me you have no meetin’s this evenin’.”

Callum cringed. “I’m supposed to be dining with that delegation from Del Bar. Followed by drinks.”

In Del Bar, alcohol was a staple of fine dining. It was a running joke that a political deal wasn’t worth having with a Del Barian unless you’d have six pints of mead. His stepfather used to dread having meetings with King Florian or his advisors, because he’d inevitably wake up the following morning with a sore head.

Rayla groaned and collapsed in a heap on top of him, pressing her nose against his neck. “I suppose there’s no point in askin’ for sex this evenin’, then?”

Callum chuckled and stroked her hair, tilting her chin so that he could kiss her nose. “I’d rather not if I’m black out drunk. If we make love, I want to actually remember it.” Then, feeling mischievous, Callum gave her a loving dig in the ribs and kissed her brow. “Besides, do you _really_ want to have sex with something resembling a sack of potatoes?”

Rayla lifted her head and gave him a long, hard look. “Aaand the mood’s gone,” she said satirically, springing to her feet and walking away towards the desk.

Callum chuckled to himself and got up to follow her. She let him wrap an arm around her shoulders and kiss her cheek before she buried herself in his arms. After a long, comfortable pause, he murmured into her ear, “Will you be okay this evening?”

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sigh heavily, but he could still hear it. “I’ll find somethin’ to stay occupied. Matt’s been tryin’ t’get volunteers to help in the armoury. I might do that,”

“If you’re sure…” Callum wasn’t overly convinced, but he was reluctant to push right now.

“How long does after drinks go on for in Del Bar?”

He blinked, wide eyed and horrified at the thought. “It…depends,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He pulled a face at the long locks of hair, suddenly thinking he could really do with a haircut. “I don’t really know what they want to discuss over dinner. I’ll try to leave as soon as I can, and I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

Rayla sighed and pressed her nose against his throat, just over the pulse point, and he nuzzled back. She lifted a hand to cup his cheek and kissed him beneath his ear. “I’ll miss you.” She confessed quietly.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you more of my time right now.” He hugged her tight.

Rayla tried to make light of it, clapping her hands on his shoulders and poking his nose with that silly little grin usually reserved for his more dumb ideas. “I’m a big girl. I’m sure I’ll survive a few hours without you and your impressive manhood.”

Callum rolled his eyes and tilted his head back towards the heavens. “Is that all I am to you? A quick orgasm?”

“Don’t be silly,” she kissed his cheek sweetly, her smile devious. “If all I wanted was a quick orgasm, I’d do it m’self. I just like watchin’ you suffer.”

Callum poked her in the ribs as she walked away. “So you admit it, you _are_ a sadist!”

“I admit _nothin_ ’.” Rayla said emphatically, grabbing some grapes from the fruit bowl as she walked by. She spun nimbly on her back leg and tossed one into the air, tilting her head back to catch it in her mouth. She gave him a sardonic smile before saying, “I’d better get goin’ before your Aunt sends out a witch hunt for me.”

Before Rayla left, Callum pulled her in for a long, lingering embrace, and she melted into his arms contentedly, despite all her teasing. He kissed her mouth and told her, “I love you,” in Common Elven, instead of her native dialect. He _hoped_ rather than believed he was being subtle, and she gave him a tired smile before repeating the sentiment back to him in Draconic, tracing a Sky rune over his heart.

XOXO

_Dear Rayla,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. We heard from your parents recently, they and the Dragon Prince are doing well. Runaan’s arm is causing him a few problems, but we’re taking it in stride. The kids at school are putting on a production this Solstice – I still don’t think anyone can top your solo in the Moonsical, though!_

_It’s busy by our standards, but a lot quieter than Lux Aurea. I’m glad to have some peace and quiet before the spring. I’ll be so glad to see you again, but it’s going to be a hectic season! I hope you all have a good winter in Katolis._

_Runaan wants me to remind you to take iron tonic if you feel run down._

_I know you’re all grown up now with your own life to lead, but I miss you all the same. Sometimes I find myself wondering what you’re up to, if you’re eating right (Soren’s fondness for red meat in those quantities still worries me). They don’t have anything like moonberry surprise in Katolis, do they? I’d try to send you some, but I don’t think it would survive the distance in this weather unless I used a shadow hawk. And you know how Runaan is about using magic needlessly. He’d say you can suffer without it for a few more months. Hard arse. It’s good to have him home, even if it means putting up with his grumpy shadow lurking in hallways and around door lintels._

_He won’t admit it, but he misses you too. It’s just not the same without you and your bright laugh to balance out his scowl. I’m sure I’ll make do. Callum’s a lucky lad to have your full attention and affections. Runaan won’t say it out right, but I’m sure he’s thinking that he doesn’t deserve you – I don’t think he’s ever been prepared to let you go. Certainly not to just_ anyone _. I suppose you could have done far worse than a Prince (now that really was unexpected!). He’s a good lad, I hope you two are well and healthy._

_There’s really no subtle way to put it. I’m sorry for the emotions, feel free to scream at me when we next see each other._

_I really miss you. I know these last few years have been hard for you, and this situation isn’t fair. My hope is that come the spring everything will be settled for the better. Whatever happens, I’ll always think of you as my own. I couldn’t love you any more than if you were my own flesh and blood, Rayla. Nothing will ever change that._

_Please give my regards to King Ezran, and my love to Callum. I hope the adjustments I made to his staff are still working._

_I look to the spring, when the world wakes, and I will see you again._

_All my love,_

_Ethari_

Rayla sighed and rolled the letter up again. She had agonised over reading it for hours while polishing armour and grinding axe blades, and then just took the plunge as the sun had slipped under the horizon. It was a clear night, the moon waxing towards full, with enough light to read by on the secluded roof top of the empty tower. She kept going over and over what he had written, hearing Ethari’s voice and smiling sadly when she thought of what Runaan would have said if he had seen what had been written about him. Vehement denial, most likely. Runaan didn’t _do_ emotions.

When she was younger, Rayla used to wonder why they had got married if Runaan was allergic to feelings, and Ethari was (at least, by Moonshadow standards) very emotional. Now, with hindsight and her own experiences, she knew it was a matter of balancing each other out. She was brash, rude, reckless and likewise hung up on her emotions, where Callum was calm, gentle, polite and very in tune with his.

Not that she was _ever_ prepared to admit this to _anyone_ , but Rayla liked to think of them as the two sides of the moon; he was the visible side, filled with light, and she was the dark side that you couldn’t see but knew was always there. Always changing, always adapting, always knowing it would come back around again, full circle.

In a way, it was comforting to know that Ethari still felt this way about her. In another, it hurt all the more because she desperately wanted an Ethari hug. When she was really little, when her parents had gone to join the Dragonguard, only Ethari hugs could make everything better again. Snuggling with Callum and Ezran hugs just weren’t the same.

And she missed that prat Runaan as well, though her feelings were a jumbled mess regarding him. His acerbic ways used to make her laugh – the way Ethari would set a very elaborate verbal trap, and he’d blunder his way right into it, having already unwittingly delivered the punchline himself before he realised it. Then he’d give her that unamused look as she staggered out of the room, trying desperately not to howl with laughter while Ethari pretended to look surprised and completely innocent.

Rayla ran her thumb along the seam of the rolled-up letter, thinking about the last meal they’d had together before they’d received the news about the Dragon King.

Nothing had ever been the same since.

That wasn’t necessarily _bad_ , even if it had felt so at the time…

She wouldn’t trade Callum and Ezran for the world.

And there were quite a few other humans she was growing fond of, too. And a few other elves from different clans. She tried to do the thing Callum always did when he got worked up; take a nice deep breath, and just let that shit go. It was okay to be aware and to acknowledge the upsides to a situation, and still acknowledge and feel the negative emotions attached to the downsides at the same time. Rayla had managed to convince herself that Runaan hated her guts and wanted nothing to do with her ever again, but the addition of the line in Ethari’s letter about the iron tonic – that was so something Runaan would actually say, and Ethari was worse than Callum at telling lies, even on paper. It was his bizarre way of letting her know vicariously that he did still care.

She supposed gloomily that should she be forever banished from the Silvergrove, she could still arrange to go see them in Xadia. Janai had made a point of letting her know she was always welcome in Lux Aurea, when the Silvergrove Council representative had delivered their news. Callum had told her afterwards that they would figure something out, that they could make something good out of this bad situation. She had trusted him then, and she knew she’d trust him now if he said it again – she just didn’t know if she believed it because it was true or because she was desperate.

Seeing Malra and Aibeck again…and Hem. They all had their adult marks; it was painful to read their family ties from the intricate lines painted onto their skin, visible after they had all gone inside and taken off their winter coats.

Runaan had once joked that, since he and Ethari had raised her from the age of five, she was entitled to _their_ kinship lines more than her parents’, going as far as teasing them with it in their next correspondence. Ethari had eventually let Rayla read the letter her mother had sent back, promising dire retribution on Runaan’s head if he went through with his threats. It had made her laugh to think of her mother raging around the Storm Spire, spitting blood at Runaan’s audacity.

What Rayla would have really liked was for Callum to see her family’s marks, and develop something with Ethari. Knowing Callum, he’d come up with something _perfect_. He always did.

Something pale flashed in the moonlight, and she turned her full attention to it, stuffing the letter back into her pocket. It was a little moon phoenix, and when it fluttered to her hand with a soft keen, the illusion spell dissipated, and it was just a piece of intricately folded paper again. Carefully she opened it up and smoothed the creases so she could better read the loopy handwriting in the soft moonlight.

_Soft dark night descends_

_Bright moonbeams caress my lips_

_Stars shine in your eyes_

_\- I look forward to the pleasure of your company again._

Rayla smiled, tracing the edge of Callum’s cursive with the tip of her finger. He was such a sap. Had he spent the whole evening thinking up this haiku instead of paying attention to his diplomatic duties? Or had he found this previously in a book and saved it for a special occasion? Either way, she deeply appreciated the sentiment. She glanced up at the moon to gauge the passage of time, and decided it wasn’t _too_ late to be banging on his window for a night of passion. She made her way down from the tower lithely, and was strolling across the roof of the main library, looking at Callum’s poem and smiling to herself, when someone jumped up onto the roof about twenty paces away, and she froze.

Aibeck didn’t seem to notice as he got to his feet and walked in a diagonal line away from her. He stood for a moment, hands on his hips, surveying the scenery of the castle and the capital with curiosity. He turned around just as she was attempting to slip away unseen on the very exposed plain of the roof, and jumped out of his skin.

They stood for a long moment, just staring at each other, neither of them knowing what to do. Eventually, Aibeck rubbed his neck, coughed loudly, and said awkwardly, “Err… Hi. Nice…night for a stroll,”

“It is.” Rayla agreed stiltedly. “I have a meetin’ to go to, so…” she gestured towards one of the towers that still had many lights flickering in the windows, and Aibeck backed away.

“Of course, of course. You’re busy. I’ll…” he looked like there was something he was dying to get off his chest, and Rayla resisted the urge to retreat hastily. “I’ll just…yeah,” he wrung his hands uselessly, hung his head, and then made for the edge of the roof at a run.

Rayla ducked in the opposite direction, taking a different route to Callum’s rooms to make doubly sure no one saw or followed. While she wasn’t ashamed of the world at large seeing that she was in a relationship with him, she didn’t like other people knowing how frequently she was in Callum’s bed, or speculating over what they did behind closed doors. That was something deeply personal and between just the two of them; a side of her that she only wanted Callum to see.

At the window to his main room, Rayla tapped gently, and it was flung open almost immediately. Callum greeted her at the windowsill with a glass of Moscato and a big smile.

“Be honest,” she said wryly, taking the glass from him as she fell elegantly over the threshold into his living room. “How drunk are you?”

“Would you believe only slightly tipsy?” he asked, lifting his own glass to clink against hers, and took a small sip. “I very deliberately drank only small amounts of cognac, and lots of water. I didn’t want to be _too_ drunk in case you required my _services_ this evening,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Rayla was secretly very pleased with this turn of events. Callum didn’t like the idea of having sex while drunk, claiming that if they made love he wanted to remember it in the morning, and he was a complete fly weight when it came to liquor. That he had been this strategic the whole evening – with Del Barian politicians, no less – made her feel very cherished and special. Not that she was going to give the smug git the satisfaction of knowing that just yet.

“Cognac? No Mead?” she asked, taking a sip of her own. It was proper Moonshadow Moscato as well, made with moonberries. Callum was rather partial to it, more so than other Xadian wines, so he dolled it out very sparingly to make it last.

“No. We had a few visitors from Evenere gate crash the meeting. Lord Iorik couldn’t turn them away without giving offence.”

“Who was it?” Rayla asked, curious. She let him wrap an arm around her waist and lead her to the couch.

They snuggled up together before he continued. “A second cousin of the Queen of Evenere. Princess Irene. She overhead Brock talking about my war wound, and he managed to make me sound like a complete badass. Now I can’t get rid of her.”

“Ohhh,” Rayla murmured gently, tracing lines on his cheek bones. “I see how it is.”

“Do you?” he asked lightly, giving her a smirk.

“You’re feelin’ guilty. That’s what all this is about.” She teased him.

“Well, I think we can thank Princess Irene for intervening, because it meant less mead, and I was _far_ more aware about what I was drinking all evening. So here I am,” he gestured grandly to himself. “Only _slightly_ drunk, and very eager to spend some time with a beautiful lady who can see beyond my battle scars,” he kissed the tip of her nose lovingly.

Rayla gave him a crooked smile and stroked his face. There was a fine line between Tipsy Callum and Drunken Callum – and he had walked it rather well this evening. He was looser and more confident in his stupid flirting skills when he was in this state. By Garlath’s Great Blade of Sundering, was that a turn on. And judging by that poem and the mode of delivery, he was in complete control of all his other faculties. The stars had to be aligning themselves in the heavens for her.

“You may _appear_ to be a badass,” she murmured, kissing his throat very deliberately, slowly making her way to his lips. “And be the most powerful human mage in the world. But that doesn’t stop you from bein’ a clumsy oaf. I see you for what you really are.” She bit him, and enjoyed what it did to his breathing rate. “An idiot with a pocket full of dreams, a heart full of love, and a face covered in bruises from all the times he’s fallen flat on it.”

“And for once,” he said with a light laugh, his fingers tenderly making their way inside her clothes, “I think I’m ready to skip the foreplay.”

“Oh, but it’s _so_ much _fun_ ,” Rayla gave him a dramatic pout.

Callum leaned away from her, withdrawing his hand from her breasts, and she felt disappointed for a moment until she saw him hold up a finger to stall her, and took a long draught from his glass. He set it down on the table and drew his legs up so that he was kneeling between her legs. She put her own glass down, not trusting his hand to eye coordination right now, and let him press her down against the couch, locking their fingers together.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, kissing her long and slow. She could taste the sweet wine on his tongue.

“Yes,” she breathed back, trembling with anticipation. He had been putting an awful lot of thought into this evening so far. That boded extremely well.

By the time they were ready to head for the bedroom, they had shed most of their clothes. Rayla didn’t notice the generous handfuls of rose petals on the covers until she was lying on top of them with Callum wedged firmly between her legs. She paused for a moment, turning her head and blinking in surprise as Callum took the opportunity to lean down and kiss her neck passionately. She plucked a single blue petal from the pile of red ones, turning it over between her fingers.

Callum noticed where her attention had gone, and smiled sheepishly. “I…ran out of moon rose petals.” He admitted.

Rayla flicked it aside and propped herself up on her elbows, making sure to flex her shoulders so that her breasts were shown off to best effect. “Have I ever told you that you’re absolutely perfect?”

Callum made a show of looking thoughtful, but she could see how deeply flattered he really was. “Not when I’m completely sober,” he told her languidly, caressing one of her breasts with increasing force.

She bit her lip and arched into the contact.

“By the Light, you’re so beautiful…” he murmured, brushing the hair off her face with his free hand. Then he slid it down her body, slipping between her legs, and started caressing her.

“Oh Stars… Take me,” she begged, unable to stand the sweet tension any longer.

They made out some more, and Rayla let Callum indulge in some more heavy foreplay before she insisted on moving ahead. They were about to couple together when Callum jumped like he had been hit with a fulminis spell, and he squeaked, “Sponge!” when she tried to calm him down with a kiss. They stared at each other wide eyed for a moment before she bounced off the bed to tear through the drawers looking for the contraceptives. He tried to reach for her to help – and while sometimes it was ridiculously romantic to have her lover insert it for her, Rayla was in a hurry tonight, so she batted his hand away and did it herself.

“So,” she asked, dragging a leg over his hips and pinning him down against the bed, giving him a self-satisfied smile as he whimpered pre-emptively. “Where were we?” she held both of his wrists with one hand, and slid the other down his body to his waist. There, she guided herself to him, and took her sweet time bringing their bodies together, watching his expression and listening to his breathless moans. “Ah, I remember now. Right about… _here_.” She bit her lip as she settled against him, and closed her eyes as she arched her back when he rolled his hips upwards against her.

“Take me,” he panted. “I’m _begging_ you-”

“Well,” she leaned over him and touched his face tenderly, giving the tip of his nose a very chaste kiss as she rocked her hips over his. “If my Prince requests it, how can I refuse him?”

Rayla may have liked it hard and fast most days, but there was something to be said about dragging it out like this; it made the eventual climax all the more satisfying. And Callum appreciated a little orgasm control every now and then.

For an hour or so, Rayla completely forgot about the Silvergrove, the other elves in the castle, her family waiting for her in Xadia. Right now, it was just her and Callum; the man she was in love with, the boy who had stolen her heart and cradled it through thick and thin. She focused on him, and their shared pleasure, and little else.

Still mindful of hurting him, she made a point of avoiding his chest. She tied his wrists together with his scarf, which she looped around the headboard, so that she had both hands free to touch his face, grip his shoulders, or the pillows when she got too rough. Before the end, he still bore the marks of her passionate love making; bruising kisses on his neck and shoulder, red lines scraped down the sides of his ribcage, a couple of bruises where she had gripped his hips a bit too hard. When he begged her for release, she tangled her right hand with both of his above his head, using her other arm to brace her weight, and went for it with abandon. A part of her watched with detached wonder as Callum came undone beneath her, one of the few times that he was that much closer to climax than she was.

Content that the instinctive rocking of his hips would find Callum his release, Rayla let her own body find a pace that complimented his while speeding up her own pleasure. She smiled lazily when the tenor of his moans changed, bringing her hand down to cup his face as he convulsed; his back arched as he cried out, her name a broken sob on his lips. As he was coming down from the high, Rayla was poised on the brink, biting her lip and trying to draw this moment out for as long as possible.

Callum murmured her name again as she came hard, shaking and crying out wordlessly, burying her face in his shoulder. Finally, her hips came to rest completely, and she collapsed in an unceremonious heap on top of him, spent and utterly content. Callum flexed his fingers against her hand, and she roused herself long enough to check he was all right before unbinding his hands, and then she collapsed again. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek tenderly.

“Ahh _fuck_ …” Rayla sighed with satisfaction.

Callum chuckled and kissed her temple. “I think we just _did_.”

“Shut up.” Rayla said through a yawn. She snuggled down under the blankets with him and ran her fingers carefully over the scars on his chest. “You okay?”

“Mmm?” he mumbled sleepily, yawning himself.

“You okay?” she asked again, poking him.

Callum blinked, and looked down at himself stupidly, and she waited for the answer to register in his mind. “Yeah.” He said, almost questioningly. “I’m okay.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

“I _am_ surprised,” he touched the edge of the scars, and then the centre where he had no sense of touch anymore. “I didn’t even think about it.”

Rayla pursed her lips, before she started tracing lazy and delicate spirals against the smooth scar tissue. Now that she was scrutinising it closely, it didn’t look quite so raw, and the deep purple colouration had subsided. “That’s either really good news, and I could have had one hell of a night with you, or that’s bad and you’re wayyy drunker than you let on.”

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” he grouched at her. He squeaked when she poked him just below the ribs, and she gave a low laugh. “At least, I didn’t _think_ I was.”

“Just…y’know,”

“If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.” He said obediently, snuggling closer. He kissed her cheek again, saying, “Promise.”

Mollified, Rayla likewise cuddled closer with another sigh. “Ah, I _really_ needed that after the week I’ve had.” The words were out of her mouth before her mind caught up, and she winced as Callum gave her a gentle, searching look.

He carefully put his fingers underneath her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Is there…anything you want to talk about?”

Rayla smiled ruefully, and took his wrist, kissing the pulse point. “It’s okay. Messy emotions that need time to sort their messes out. Just…lots of things goin’ on at once.”

“Cause, if you needed a break…”

“Oh _shush_ you,” she pretended to bat him away and mussed up his hair so it looked even more like a haystack. “It’s fine, really. I just need time. And you.” She kissed his lips, and then again more deeply. “And certain parts of your anatomy,” she murmured, her fingers trailing down towards his thighs.”

Callum chuckled breathlessly. “I…don’t know if I have another round in me tonight.”

“Oh what a shame,” she said carelessly, bringing her hands back up so she could wrap her arms around his middle. “I’ll just have to bonk you in the mornin’ then before you go off to your first meetin’.” She grinned like an idiot when he laughed.

Rayla’s favourite Katolian euphemism for sex was love making. Callum’s favourite Moonshadow phrase was bonking. For whatever reason, he just found the word really amusing, and Rayla found his reaction endearing.

“I can’t think of many other ways I’d rather start the day,” he murmured, kissing her hair and stroking the lines under her eyes.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She threatened languidly, cuddling herself up close to him.

After they said goodnight, Callum quickly fell asleep, and Rayla remained awake a while longer in a comfortable stupor before she too dozed off. Her dreams slowly morphed into something that wasn’t quite a nightmare, but was still disturbing; she was five and left alone watching while her parents walked away without looking back. And when she went to Runaan and Ethari for comfort, they just didn’t react to her. It wasn’t like the Ghosting – she could still see their faces clearly – but their expressions were dull and neutral, like they acknowledged she was there but chose not to act on it. Then she was thirteen and standing on the training grounds in the Silvergrove with Runaan berating her lacklustre performance that week, and when she ran back to the house in tears Ethari wasn’t there to comfort her as she thought he would be.

The dream continued in this manner, off kilter and uncomfortable until she jerked awake in the small hours of the morning. Rayla took a deep breath and listened to the sounds around her; wind and rain lashed against the windows, Callum’s slow breathing whispered in her ear, his steady heartbeat under her hand. She snuggled closer, wishing he was awake to offer some solace but not prepared to wake him up for it. His fingers closed around her hand, and his cheek turned to nuzzle in her direction, but he didn’t wake up. Rayla smiled to herself and indulged in the warm, physical contact. She was very grateful that, of all the idiots she could have fallen for, it was with a cuddly sleeper.

Callum grunted in his sleep, and for a moment she thought he was waking up, but he stretched clumsily, flopped onto his side, and wrapped his arms more securely around her, with that silly little smile of his plastered all over his face. He nuzzled into her neck until he found a comfortable position, and snored gently in her ear. Rayla stroked his hair, plucking a blue rose petal from between the long, tangled locks, before closing her eyes and sighing contentedly.

XOXO

The new week began with another round of social functions – to Rayla’s despair. That meant more strait-laced, politically correct behaviour, and less time with her friends. And super uncomfortable clothes that didn’t hide weapons especially well; she could have got away with it to the untrained eye, but she didn’t dare try to sneak anything past the other Moonshadow elves.

As Callum had asked for her help, Rayla waited for everyone to arrive in the hall where the event was taking place, took a draught of Sunfire courage, and marched towards the nearest group of elves. Luckily, she had picked a group comprised mostly of the knights and soldiers she had been spending most of her time with, and they received her warmly. Rayla turned around and paused in a mirror image of the expression Sylvie was making at her for a long, painful moment, and then the older elf bowed her head in greeting.

“Good mornin’.” Sylvie said evenly.

“Mornin’.” Rayla replied, forgetting for a moment to be extra polite and ‘politic’.

They were both saved from awkwardness by Marcos, who saw Rayla’s rigid posture and kindly jumped in to offer a distraction. Whether Amaya noted Rayla’s distress from a distance, she didn’t know, but the General made her way across the room to join in the conversation, asking Rayla to translate for her. She glanced around helplessly, wondering where beneath the Moon Gren was, before complying to the best of her abilities. When they had a brief moment in a shadowed corner, Rayla scowled openly, and the bitch gave her that kind of smug look Ezran used when he was getting one over Callum and _knew_ it.

“You know the slang,” was her only defence, and Rayla went hunting for Gren in the crowd again.

Callum slipped out of a group of people to come find her, and she all but ran away from Amaya’s silent cackle of laughter at her expense.

“Your Aunt hates me.” Rayla told him, gratefully accepting the gesture when he reached for both her hands.

“I’m sure she doesn’t.” he told her gently, bumping his nose against hers.

“I have no sanity left.”

“She thinks you’re capable.” Callum said, smiling brightly. “You know, your signing is really good.”

“She’s toying with me,” Rayla hissed.

Callum pressed his lips together and looked at Amaya looming over Rayla’s shoulder, grinning.

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” he asked, speaking clearly in a low voice so she could read his lips without the nearest guests over hearing.

Amaya clapped Rayla on the back and sauntered away, looking very pleased with herself. Rayla scowled at her back, and then at Callum when he chuckled at her. She eased up and smiled a bit when he pressed her hand and kissed her cheek tenderly. She really couldn’t stay mad at those gorgeous green eyes for very long.

“Prince Callum.” They both turned around to see Opeli waiting with an air of patience. “Forgive the interruption,” she bowed her head politely. “The King wishes to speak with you on an urgent matter.”

Callum gave Rayla an apologetic smile and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, I’ll be right there.” Then, to Rayla he murmured, “Sorry,”

“Best not keep the King waitin’,” she said airily with a mischievous smile. She had caught Ez’s gaze just now across the room; he looked tired and a little frazzled as he bore his gaze into his brother, the person talking to him not noticing the blatant ‘please rescue me’ face he was pulling.

Opeli gave her a smile as Callum walked away, and Rayla saw for a brief moment how tired the woman was feeling. “My apologies. We’ll try not to keep the Prince for _too_ long,”

Rayla waved the notion away vaguely. “I’m used to it,” she said lightly. She inclined her head when Opeli bowed again, and watched her follow in Callum’s footsteps, coming to rest hovering by Ezran’s side in the deep conversation they were getting entrenched in.

Taking a fresh goblet of wine from the table, Rayla surveyed the room, trying to decide where to go next. She _really_ should go talk to the Healers; she already knew Brock, Serena, Demeter and Dylan, among a few other familiar faces, and she couldn’t put off talking to Aibeck and that lot forever. Just as she was steeling herself for the task, she heard Callum’s name spoken with a tittering laugh, and she automatically went into defence mode. The source was from a gaggle of young human adults off to one side, where they had a good view of Callum and Ezran. She recognised Ariadne and Seb, who was standing close by his sister; the rest were the older children of various Council members and politicians, mostly Katolian, with a couple from Del Bar and elsewhere if the clothing and jewellery were anything to go by.

“-He _is_ ridiculously good looking, though,” one of the Del Barian’s was saying, a young man maybe a year or so older than Rayla, with sandy coloured hair and an immaculately well-groomed beard.

Seb cleared his throat and leaned around his neighbour to give the man a dig in the ribs. “You’re not his type.”

When he looked put out, one of the women – dark haired with the kind of curvy figure that made Rayla feel skinny, flat and full of sharp edges – said derisively, “You don’t have horns.”

Rayla made sure her face was completely devoid of emotion, and took a long sip. The group was split between nervous laughter, wide eyed and affronted, and tacit agreement. She flicked her gaze to the twins: Seb was full of uncertainty, and Ariadne barely managed to contain her scowl.

“So…it’s true, then? The Prince is courting an elf?” the Del Barian asked.

“He is in a relationship, yes.” Ariadne said loudly, focusing her gaze on the glass in her hand.

Amongst the murmurs, someone piped up, “I know this will sound bad, but…I just don’t understand it.”

Seb and Ariadne exchanged looks, and said nothing. There was something very calculated about the non-verbal communication flitting between the pair of them, and Rayla felt the need to be wary of them because she couldn’t read into the subtext.

“If it sounds bad in your head, perhaps it’s more prudent to keep it to yourself.” Someone said lightly as she drank from her goblet. It was Lady Hana, someone Rayla rather liked; she was Miriam’s closest confident, and was one of Callum’s biggest political supporters in Court because she believed in his vision for the future and by and large agreed with his methods.

The person who had voiced the thought shrank into the crowd like a wilted flower.

“I agree with Tyrel. Should we _really_ be cavorting with the Xadians?”

“I don’t think other people’s cavorting is any of your concern,” Seb said bitingly. He stilled for a moment when Ariadne put a hand on his arm.

“I heard she spends a lot of time in his rooms-” someone else said, and Rayla looked away to admire one of the wall tapestries before she could pinpoint who had spoken.

When she felt the group’s collective gaze move away from her, she glanced at them again from the corner of her vision, taking another slow and deliberate sip.

“I don’t know _how_ you could bed someone like that.” Came a scathing remark.

Hana opened her mouth, brow creased with annoyance, but Seb beat her to it. “I refer the honourable gentlemen to the answer I gave some moments ago. It’s none of your business.”

“To be fair,” added another woman who looked to be from Evenere, with long, gorgeous tresses of ebony curls that made a stark contrast with her painfully pale skin and light grey eyes. “I never did understand how anyone would want to bed _you_ , Faron.”

There was a collective intake of breath, and a few ‘ohhhhh!’s from the group. If the look on Ariadne’s face, directed at Hana, didn’t say ‘oh for fuck sake’, Rayla didn’t know what else it could mean.

“You jealous, Tian?” the guy sneered back.

“Are elves even like humans under their clothes?” someone mused out loud.

“Grow the fuck up Mikael.” Ariadne said sharply, not deigning to look in his direction.

“Ari,” Hana said in a controlled, even tone.

“I reserve the right to call out bullshit when I see it.” To Mikael, she added, “Why are you trying to stir things up everywhere you go this week?”

“I don’t know what makes you think that I-” he began.

Seb handed his glass over to his sister and started ticking off on his fingers, “Skulking around the stables telling everyone the doors were fine don’t worry, trying to smack the Lux Aureans with your sword while sparring and ‘claiming’ it to be an accident. Let’s see…being a xenophobic prick in the dining hall over the new menu,”

“Yes, _thank_ you Seb.” Hana said loudly, trying to diffuse the situation.

While Seb got himself into an increasingly heated argument with Mikael, a short woman with orange hair and freckles sidled over to Ariadne, looking nervous, and asked, “ _You’ve_ spent a lot of time around them.”

“I spend a lot of time around lots of different people.” Ariadne looked every inch a diplomat in that moment. A diplomat with no shits left to give. “To whom were you referring?” she asked lightly, turning halfway around to look at the woman, who shuffled apprehensively.

“The…Xadian medics.” She mumbled timidly.

“Oh yes,” she said, her tone still deliberately low-key scathing. Despite the fatigue dragging at her frame and her shaking right leg, she commanded a great deal of authority. Rayla made a mental note to watch her in future. “We’re getting a lot of good work done in the infirmary. We are all learning a lot from each other about healing and triage. I think this exchange is an excellent idea.”

“I think the Summit in the spring will be even better.” Someone else put in, and a few turned to look at her with either derision, unease, or approval.

They managed to steer the conversation towards more neutral territory, and by the time Rayla was ready to walk away, Ariadne was chatting animatedly with someone who had the dark desert skin of Neolandia about the medicinal properties of melodaisy roots. It was good to see that, while there was some unpleasantness brewing, most of the Katolians present in that loose group were voicing their disagreements and openly challenging those views. It was even better to see someone who was working closely with the other elves being very vocal about it.

Rayla caught Brock watching her, and walked over when he beckoned. “I deployed the twins,” he told her quietly, smiling at Ariadne when she glanced in their direction, and they both raised they goblets to each other in a small gesture of solidarity before the medic went back to her conversation. “Ariadne’s very good at intelligence gathering.”

“Good at verbal take downs too.” Rayla took a sip, raising her eyebrows comically. She wondered what Runaan would have made of someone like her training under him.

Brock chuckled. “Yes, you do have to get used to her acerbic tongue, but she’s very up front and honest.”

“How’s it goin’ your end?” Rayla asked, looking at the animated crowd of Healers and Medics, and glancing away quickly when she saw Aibeck and Malra’s backs.

“Well,” Brock looked rather pleased. “Everyone’s settled in, and we are by and large having a lot of fun.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Why don’t you come join us for a bit?”

Knowing that she didn’t have much choice in avoiding the other Moonshadow elves forever, Rayla agreed, and slid in beside Serena. She smiled and brought Rayla into the conversation immediately. She tried to be like Callum and Ezran, like Gren and Opeli: professional, sympathetic; interested and engaged with what everyone else was doing.

The Healers seemed happy enough, by all appearances. The Medics working in the infirmary were a fairly diverse bunch of people anyway, and Rayla had come to learn that Mage’s themselves were a breed apart from the rest of the world. Callum wasn’t the only person filled with googly eyed wonder for new information and experiences. She listened for the most part, observing and gauging, and mostly agreeing with Brock’s assessment of the situation.

Rayla was smiling awkwardly in Hem’s direction because it kept looking like he was trying to catch her eye before chickening out at the last possible moment, when Callum ducked suddenly behind Ezran. The King laughed loudly and clapped a Durenese man beside him on the back, pointing at something across the room to take everyone’s attention away from his brother as he made a break for it. Rayla tried really hard, and didn’t quite manage to keep from rolling her eyes.

Those idiots were not subtle.

Callum made a loop around the room, and Rayla waited for his wound to start bothering him. But he rather lithely managed to make his way towards her via the drinks table, despite the speed and agility needed for the exercise. She glanced at Brock, who was watching him like a hawk, a slight frown on his brow.

“Hello, everyone,” Callum said warmly, slipping into the circle and putting an arm around Rayla.

Dylan sank into a silly and flamboyant curtsey, and one of the younger human medics said, “Dude, you drunk?”

“You’re still ugly, so apparently not enough,” Dylan batted back instantly, taking a swig of his drink for effect.

“ _Boys_ ,” one of the senior doctors said loudly over the snickering, with loving exasperation.

Rayla turned her full attention to Callum, who’s smile was just a tad desperate.

“What?” she asked bluntly.

Turning them both away slightly, stepping back from the group at large to keep them from being overheard, Callum said, “Can I ask you to do something potentially inappropriate?”

Rayla widened her eyes theatrically and pretended to look shocked. “Oh. You should be careful what you say round here.” She pinched his waist for dramatic effect.

“Just-” he glanced nervously in the direction he had come from, and Rayla saw a tall woman with dark red hair and deep blue eyes looking right at them. Callum turned aside so that his lips were out of her sight, and said, “Just do something squishy that reinforces that I _am_ in a stable long-term relationship, and that I’m _happy_ in my boring monogamy.”

Rayla looked right at the woman, who refused to back down for a long moment until Rayla waved merrily. She was debating whether to blow a kiss or not, but the woman turned aside and spoke to the man next to her.

“Princess Irene?” Rayla questioned in a low voice.

Callum’s long-suffering look was all the answer she needed. They continued small talk for a few minutes, and when the Princess looked again, Rayla took the opportunity to smile and laugh at what Callum was saying (something about Earth magic that wasn’t remotely funny) and lean over to kiss him, adding a gentle caress to his cheek while she was at it. The urge to look the woman right in the eye was strong, but she settled for just enjoying Callum’s soft and bewildered expression. The Moon was in his eyes, and the Stars on his tongue, so the saying went.

“I love you.” He stated simply when he found his voice. There were a thousand different, soppy things he could have said, most of which were not ‘appropriate’ for this setting. Being open and unashamed about their relationship was one thing; gratuitous displays of public affection in a Court setting, where everyone was constantly being judged to a degree, was another thing entirely. Rayla settled for understated with his reaction, enjoying the legitimate excuse she had to kiss him openly like this.

Ariadne limped over just then, and Dylan wordlessly got her a chair. Brock tapped her good shoulder as she passed, asking, “How is everything?” in a light tone.

“As well as can be expected.” She replied airily. She caught Callum’s eye and they shared a mutual look of long suffering. “Permission to slip something in Mikael’s tea, My Lord.”

“ _No_.” Callum said firmly, unconsciously drawing Rayla closer.

“Kill joy,” Ariadne stumped over to the chair and let Dylan push her onto it.

“Anything to report?” Callum asked, imitating Brock’s tone.

She looked from him to the group she had just left, and back again. “Not much,” she said vaguely, lifting her left hand and signing ‘later, better’. Callum bowed his head and took a step back, slipping his arm around Rayla’s waist again, and she leaned into his touch.

Because they were all medical personnel in their various practises, they were weird and swapped all sorts of random notes. Rayla couldn’t really talk, since she used to do the same thing with her assassin training. In fact, she had stayed up late one dark moon with Aibeck and another classmate planning the ‘perfect murder’ for practise, and spent the first three hours arguing heatedly about the relative merits of using poisons as a murder weapon. No, she couldn’t talk at all.

Right now, the conversation was turning to the differences in human and elven physiology – from that weird, detached and clinical place that all Healers and Doctors seemed to be able to go to, like flicking a switch.

Aibeck didn’t notice Rayla nearby, and he walked right up to Ariadne’s chair and folded his arms, listening to her discuss the different pressure points in the hands. “I still don’t understand what you use those things for.” He said.

Rayla blinked. His somewhat loud voice, and blunt force trauma tone took her right back to the earliest days of her training as a child. She didn’t notice Callum until he gave her a loving squeeze, and she started, turning her head to find him very close and watching her with thinly veiled concern. With her distress blossoming in her chest, and Princess Irene staring at them pointedly, she closed her eyes and leaned towards him, smiling when he returned the gesture.

“The same thing as your own fingers, I guess.” Ariadne said satirically.

The elf closest to her on her other side laughed and came forward, hands folded behind his back. Rayla looked at him with interest. He was clearly from one of the coastal communities of Tidebound elves, but his skin was almost jet-black bar some symmetrical patches of skin on his neck and arms that appeared to lack pigment, a little bit like Dylan. His marks were a deep greyish-blue colour, and the collar of his tunic was low enough to show the patterns painted over his collar bone, like the fluked tail of a dolphin. The cut of his clothing suggested where he was from, but the colour of his skin was unusual, though not unheard of, for that particular region.

“It’s an interesting conundrum for an acupuncturist.”

“Nah, that’s just me.” Ariadne said carelessly. “I’m an awkward patient – wipe that smirk off your face,” she added succinctly at Callum, who was trying not to laugh.

Rayla made another mental note to pummel him for more details on their shared childhood later, and settled with just listening in for now. She was watching Aibeck and wondering how much or how little he had changed over the years, and when he would eventually notice her presence.

“What conundrum?” he was asking the Tidebound elf, who nodded to Ariadne.

She lifted her right hand, wiggling her five digits, and pointed between the third and fourth fingers. “The skeletal structure of the hand. This digit shares all of its tendons with the other two, so it has less strength. The little finger actually has the best grip in the whole hand.”

Aibeck frowned as he digested this. “How do you mean?”

“Look,” she held her arm out flat and placed the other hand on top, fingers arched so the tips were in contact with the surface below. She slowly went one by one, lifting each finger up in sequence, skipping the ring finger for the pinky first, and then demonstrating the lack of mobility. “It has no independent tendons. A lot of the strength in the grip comes from the littlest finger,” she held her hand out to the Tidebound elf, who obligingly wrapped his own smallest finger around hers, and they pulled to demonstrate the point.

“I’m getting there were the pressure points,” he said amicably.

“Has the map of the meridians tripped you up yet?” Callum asked with a laugh, and Rayla lovingly rolled her eyes and pinched him.

The elf turned to him with a smile, saw who he was talking to, and jumped out of his skin. He smiled a lot more nervously, and Ariadne interjected, “Did you do any Healer training as an Ocean mage?”

“A bit,” Callum admitted. “I’m honestly not that good at it. I understand the bare basics and that’s it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you two have been properly introduced. Baelan, this is Callum. Callum, this is Baelan.” She pointed from one to the other, smoothly introducing them to each other as Mages rather than by rank and title. “This is the infamous patient Brock talks about,” she added in a stage whisper.

“Right,” Baelan smiled a little less nervously.

Aibeck had looked first at Callum, and then at Rayla, and shuffled his way behind Ariadne. He didn’t leave entirely because he looked really interested in the thread of conversation that they were steering away from. Rayla was determined to learn more about Ariadne, because she managed to foist Baelan and Callum into their own conversation and to then give Aibeck the attention and information he was seeking in just a couple of minutes, with only a few words. It was kind of amazing to watch, and made Rayla wonder why she wasn’t a diplomat like her mother and sister.

Half listening to Callum get really animated about magic, she kept half an eye on Aibeck, who was gently prodding and kneading Ariadne’s hand to feel the structure of tendons for himself, eyes going wide at first before he settled into a frown of focused concentration. Brock weighed in on their conversation, and soon he was conducting a mini lesson for all the students who had stopped to watch. He got them to pair up to look at the differences in anatomy, and did it in such a constructive and positive way that the sting from the earlier conversation Rayla had overheard was all but gone. Still, she knew she needed to report back to Callum about it, but that could wait.

Right now, it was nice to see the diplomatic mission being a success, and to see Callum in his true element. Rayla looked over the rim of her goblet as she took another sip, and observed Marcos finish telling some hilarious story that had the human and elven soldiers around him in stitches. Off to the right, Amaya and Janai were having a heated, silent argument that had Gren torn between amusement and alarm. And then she saw Ezran slipping away as Lord Karim took over the conversation, and the young King slid away with a lot more grace and subtlety than Callum had.

“Hey,” he said, looming over Rayla’s shoulder, just when she was expecting him to from counting his footsteps.

Callum blinked in surprise and turned around. “Hi.” He said stupidly, caught off guard. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Ezran breathed. Then he beamed as Rayla reached out without looking to snatch a glass from a platter that was being carried past, and handed it to him. “Thank you, My Lady,” he gave her a deep bow, and Rayla curtsied prettily for him. They didn’t dare look each other in the eye in case they both started laughing, and she caught Callum’s eye roll before he spun round and got stuck into his conversation about magic. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to bow, and then look on in trepidation and confusion at the silly way the King was behaving. He acknowledged them all politely with that warm smile of his, and the tension eased out of the lot of them – especially seeing the way Callum reacted to Ezran and Rayla’s antics.

“In all honesty,” Ezran said quietly, lifting Bait up into his arms as everyone settled back into what they were doing. “How is it going?”

Rayla regarded the group they were standing in, and took a slow, deliberate sip. “I think it’s goin’ okay.” She told him quietly, giving Bait a scratch behind the ear.


	6. Weathering Storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lock down restrictions are easing where I am, and I’m bubbled with extended family whose parents need a break xD hence, updates will probably be more sporadic for a while because I’m on kids patrol.

The full moon was just around the corner. Usually, Rayla enjoyed this phase of the month; she liked going for runs, enjoyed dodging the duty guardsmen, and she loved messing around with Callum and their Moonshadow powers. And by ‘Moonshadow powers’, that meant Rayla being able to go almost invisible and Callum faffing around with his damn illusion spells, or playing a game where he had to try and find her at the height of the full moon. She was _never_ going to admit it, but he was actually getting pretty good at finding her; too many times to count he had been a hairs breadth away, searching through the soft moonlight around corners and in between shadows. It made sneaking up on him incredibly easy when all she had to do was take a single side-step and poke him in the ribs, which never failed to make him jump and squeak like a startled mouse.

Now there were five other Moonshadow elves lurking around the castle this month. And as Aibeck had unwittingly demonstrated, the rooftops weren’t solely her domain anymore. Not only that, But Callum was still banned from complex spell casting, and _absolutely_ no Primal magic under a full arcanum, of _any_ description.

It well and truly sucked.

Three days before the full moon, they both had the whole day off – and Callum was called away at the last possible moment to attend to a meeting about the Summit. One of the Neolandian Ministers had _insisted_ that Prince Callum, Archmage of the Pentarchy, be present for it. Despite the fact that it was about accommodation and travel arrangements, of which Callum had no control over or meaningfully tactical opinion on _anyway_.

He was so pissed off that their plans had been scuppered just an hour before they were set to go off together, Callum was almost in tears. Rayla found it equally frustrating, but kept her opinion to herself. That, and she didn’t trust herself to speak anyways. He had surprised her before he left by saying, “Sometimes, I’m so tempted to ask you to reconsider your Oath.”

That made Rayla pause. Moonshadow elves were all about duty and honour and such, and after they had returned Zym to his mother, she had sworn an Oath to never take a life unless absolutely necessary and in defence of the Peace. That Callum made such a statement without the usual twinkle of amusement in his eye communicated how close to the end of his rope he really was.

So instead of going on their pre-planned, ridiculously romantic picnic down in the woods, Rayla skulked around the west wing like the avenging angel of death from the old fairy tales, scowling angrily.

Then she bumped into Miriam, and set her grievances aside for a moment, though they continued to smoulder in the back of her mind.

“You couldn’t help a cripple out, could you?” the woman asked vaguely, holding a hand out to Rayla as she stomped past.

“Wassup?” Rayla replied, working to keep her tone even.

Miriam gave her the absolute _best_ satirical smile Rayla had ever seen (and she was a Moonshadow elf and all). She had dark skin and thick, beautiful braids that were pulled back into a different style every day; today the top half of her hair was pulled into a bun, with the rest spilling down over the shoulders of her plain red tunic. “Darren and Jamal took a look at the brakes this morning and said everything was fine. Now I’m stuck.”

Rayla raised an eyebrow. She was pretty sure she knew who those two were; their mechanical work was a bit hit and miss. She appraised Miriam’s situation – clearly she had been stuck here for a while, and the wheelchair was lopsided like something was amiss with the suspension. “You okay? Need a drink or anythin’?”

“If you have a little water, I won’t say no.” She replied lightly

Rayla handed her satchel over and crouched down to take a closer look. “The fuck’ve those jokers done to your chair?!” she exclaimed.

Miriam was thirstier than she had let on, because she took a much longer draught of water than Rayla was expecting. “I don’t know. They assured me all was well.” She put the water skin away, and neatly folded her hands in her lap, then turned to give Rayla a smile that dripped with sarcasm.

Rayla gestured before springing to her feet. “Get your arse up, I need to tip it over,”

“Yessir,” Miriam wrapped her arms around Rayla’s neck and let the elf heave her up out of the wheelchair. Rayla carefully placed her down on the nearest plinth, underneath a suit of armour, and then went back to the chair with a frown. “You got anymore drink?”

Rayla chucked the satchel without looking, absorbed in the mess of the braking system. “Permission to kill should they ever get within six feet of your chair again?”

Miriam shrugged grandly before taking a swig from the water skin. “As long as you clean up after, that should be fine.”

While Rayla was tinkering, she heard someone coming down the corridor from the other direction, but paid them no mind until she heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Ariadne bending over Miriam with concern.

“Rayla’s looking after me, I’m all right,” she was saying, giving Ariadne’s hands a squeeze. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Have you perchance seen that idiot brother of mine anywhere?” Ariadne looked sidelong at what Rayla was doing, and politely glanced away when Rayla directed her scowled at her.

“Nope.” Miriam looked from Ariadne to Rayla and back, before squeezing her hands again. “But if you get me a cinnamon bun I’ll tell you all about Lord Amren’s dirty laundry.”

Ariadne drooped. “My Lady,” she patted her hand with a tired smile. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about that man. Or his dirty socks.”

“I thought you’d be scouting for Adila.” Miriam said flippantly as she leaned back against the suit of armour behind her. “I saw her snooping round the library this morning before the meeting.”

“Don’t get me fuckin’ _started_.” Ariadne jabbed a finger at her menacingly. “You know he’s only here still because the King of Neolandia ordered him to stay longer? He can’t _wait_ to be shot of us.”

Rayla threw a look at Miriam, who was watching her with pursed lips. “Dare say the feeling’s _entirely_ mutual.” She looked up at Ariadne again, who looked like she might try kicking the armour with frustration. “You having a bad day?” Miriam asked, dispensing with the usual teasing tones.

“Looks like it’s going to be one of _those_ weeks.” She growled, folding her arms and clutching her right elbow. “I need Seb to do some reconnaissance work for me, but I can’t find the bastard anywhere.”

“I have an ear in every wall. Maybe I can help?” Miriam asked. “Shut it,” she pointed at Rayla without looking when the elf snorted.

“Yeah, y’just need to have enough baked goods to bribe her with.” Rayla said carelessly as she dismantled the brakes to start over again. They really had made a pig’s ear out of this.

When Ariadne didn’t say anything, Rayla leaned back casually around the upturned wheelchair to appraise her. She looked a bit startled, but had covered it well by the time their eyes met. When Rayla lifted an eyebrow at her, she coughed into the back of her hand. “I was…under the impression that bribery was a no-no in Xadian culture.”

“Mostly.” Rayla said with a wry smile.

“To be fair, I’ve tried buying Rayla off. Nothing works.” Miriam sighed. “Ohh, I just have to find the right incentive with this one.”

“How’s that going for you?” Ariadne asked with a smile.

Leaning back with a hand stroking her chin thoughtfully, the woman said, “Would you believe, _quite_ badly?”

“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “Oh, Miriam. You’re losing your touch.”

“I blame Rayla.”

“Piss off and find someone else to fix your damn chair, then.”

“Did I ever mention how big and beautiful your horns are?” Miriam pretended to bat her eyelashes in Rayla’s general direction, folding her hands and trying to look appealing.

Ariadne shook her head over her folded arms. “Fuck me, you’re unbelievable.” She stated bluntly.

“The question is: is it working?” Miriam asked in a stage whisper, her head tilted at an angle away from Rayla.

Ariadne flicked her gaze between the two of them. “I’m going with a _no_ right now.”

“Light damnit, Rayla. Why do you have to be so principled?!” Miriam howled.

Ariadne blinked and leaned back a little. When Rayla asked, “What?” she sighed and rubbed her temples.

“The temptation is to tell her to stop being so melodramatic.” She gestured with a little flick of her wrist, and made her eyes incredibly wide. “But that would make me a massive hypocrite.”

Rayla sniggered to herself. She had managed to get a bit of information out of Callum about their family – they seemed harmless enough, having been close to his stepfather, and Callum trusted the older sister enough to share the High Council’s workload, including the kind that was usually kept hush-hush. Adila was following comfortably in her mother’s footsteps, and the twins had appeared by all accounts to have grown out of the pranksters they had been as children. Ariadne was the most prone to aggression, which she was usually quick to apologise for, and it was fairly obviously borne of frustration over her lame leg.

For a while, there was blessed silence, and Rayla worked quickly to put the mechanism back together. Her ears twitched when Miriam eventually spoke, but she was too absorbed and close to finishing to bring herself to lean over and watch.

“Something on your mind?”

After a long pause, Ariadne said, “No. I just…” she trailed away awkwardly. “I, uh… Callum and Ez didn’t mention you were also a mechanic.”

Rayla didn’t move from her spot, but she raised a hand high above her head and gestured vaguely. “I was raised by the town black smith. Occupational hazard.”

“She has these wicked crazy cool swords as well.” Miriam said, in a tone that suggested she was grinning. “You should see them.”

“Well, unless our Lady Rayla felt the need to whip them out in the middle of Court – not that I’d really blame her for it on a week such as this-” Rayla did lean around for a look this time, and saw the woman scowling fiercely and supressing a snarl. “-I wouldn’t know. I’m not dragging my backside down to the training grounds. Those damned stairs up to the infirmary are bad enough!”

Miriam shrugged flippantly. “To each their own.” Then, because Ariadne continued to scowl. “Come on, girl. Come sit with Aunty Miriam and tell me all about it.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but then poor Rayla will have to drag _me_ to my feet as well. I’m staying right here.”

“Then stand there and tell Aunty Miriam while she holds your hand.”

She sighed heavily, ending in another snarl.

“Would it help if I closed m’ears or left for a moment?” Rayla interjected, then gave her a wry smile as Ariadne back tracked quickly.

“No, no no no. Nothing like that,” she said quickly, then scowled at the way Miriam cackled with silent laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Callum and Ez have t’kick me out of their studies every so often so I’m not _privy_ to Council business.”

“It’s more that I’m under strict instruction to minimise the impression of infighting within the Pentarchy.” She suddenly looked very weary, and her right leg wobbled unhelpfully. She waved Miriam’s concern away, and the older woman dropped it.

“To be fair whatever you have to say, Rayla’s bound to hear it from me by the end of the week anyway.”

After looking from one face to the other, and deliberating carefully, Ariadne said in a stilted tone, looking at Miriam, “Princess Irene is a _fucking_ nightmare to deal with.”

Rayla snorted with laughter. “Quiet, you.” Miriam told her without looking. “Yes, I’ve had Opeli bending my ear. I’ve already got scouts out on that front. Is this the trade agreement with the Earthblood elves?”

“Yup.” Ariadne said dully. “Among _other_ things.”

“Don’t you worry about Seb. I’ll make sure your sister is plugged into the loop.”

“If I may ask,” Rayla said very casually as she tested the locking mechanism, using the dialect and tone associated with royal and Courtly proceedings. “What other things?”

Ariadne gave her a level look, and Rayla returned it, frank and blunt. Eventually, she sighed and rubbed her face theatrically, the tremor in her leg getting worse. “If it’s not inappropriate for me to say…?”

Rayla shrugged flippantly before fixing her with another look. “That depends.”

She got a snort of laughter in response, and Ariadne crossed her arms, nursing her right arm in particular as she did so. “You know how Callum does this _really_ annoying thing whereby _everyone_ and _everything_ else takes precedence over his own wellbeing?”

“Yeah?” Damn the bastard and his compassionate heart.

Choosing her words with great care, Ariadne said, “I am under strict instruction from Soren to keep an eye on him. And Princess Irene is making that rather difficult at the moment.”

“In what way?” Miriam asked lightly, all teasing from her tone gone. This was a dangerous incarnation of Miriam – the kind Rayla had seen too little of to effectively gauge when she needed to duck and cover. Word on the street was that Miriam was a right battle axe when she wanted to be, and it was terrifying to behold.

“As in she’s been a spoiled brat most of her life who can’t take no for an answer?” Ariadne sighed again and put a hand to her brow, eyes closed. “She’s using the excuse of political alliances as a thinly veiled excuse to try and flirt. And he just isn’t interested. And he can’t openly tell her to fuck off without risking a diplomatic incident.” She lowered her hand and looked directly at Miriam, who regarded her thoughtfully. “Hence why I was looking for Seb. He’s got the fewest active duties right now, and is less likely to make any one particular group look bad if he gets caught saying something potentially inflammatory.”

It clicked into place; Ariadne had to watch what she said, because she was representing the infirmary and Katolis, and working closely with the Xadian visitors. Adila was likewise stuck with a hand tied behind her back, liaising with the other kingdoms to keep everyone onboard and happy with the burgeoning Alliance. Their mother was preparing to support Opeli in governing the kingdom while Ezran was at the Summit next year, and would then be winding her neck in, preparing to retire her position. Seb was the most likely of the lot of them to get away with indiscretions – and Rayla had already observed that the whole family were switched on and incredibly observant, meaning Seb had the necessary tools to exact whatever plan Ariadne was putting together.

Rayla supressed a sigh. Dating a royal was exhausting in a lot of ways. She knew Callum didn’t mean to get her tangled up in the middle of these political power moves, and he hated putting pressure on her. To break the tension, Rayla slapped a wheel on the chair loudly, making it spin freely, and smiled with satisfaction before she tipped it the right way up and slipped her tools back into the concealed compartment of her boot. The irony was not lost on her, that secret space designed to snuggly hide daggers, was instead being used to store the spare handful of tools Ethari had given to her for those ‘just in case’ situations.

Miriam noticed the increasingly obvious shaking in Ariadne’s right leg, and patted her hand. “You go rest your leg somewhere comfortable and come find me later. I’ll be in my study, making a nuisance of myself.”

She squeezed the proffered hand. “Thanks, I’ll take you up on that.”

Miriam gave her a smarmy smile. “Don’t forget the cinnamon buns.”

“I declare this chair fixed,” Rayla said after Ariadne had left the corridor. “Up y’get.”

Once Miriam was back in her chair and satisfied with its mobility and properly functioning brakes, they prepared to part ways. She took Rayla’s hands and gave her a truly grateful smile. “I absolve you of any and all bribes for two months. Thanks for saving my backside,”

“Any time.” Rayla grinned, giving her hands a squeeze. “Watch yourself, now.”

Miriam chuckled to herself and wheeled away down the corridor. She waved merrily before turning a corner, and zipping off at a faster pace – she had already lost enough time, today. Rayla’s smile faded as she turned and walked away, feeling the absence of human or elven contact. Maybe she should go bother Barius; the guy always had a thousand things to be getting on with, and he didn’t mind putting up with her presence in his kitchens. On a whim (and in part due to hearing Aibeck’s voice around a corner by the nearest tower), Rayla decided to go skulk around the rose gardens for a bit. To get fresh air, and in the vain hope that she might bump into Callum at the end of his meeting. There was still time in the day, after all, for their planned picnic. Assuming that he could extricate himself.

Rayla sighed heavily and ducked her way through one of the mullioned windows, dropping cat like onto the rooftop below, and strolling along in the high, cold wind that promised snow in the coming weeks. As the wintery weather settled in her bones, and Ethari’s letter floated in and out of her thoughts, Rayla reflected that sometimes dating a prince was more trouble than it was worth.

Callum, however, in and of himself, was worth every aggravation he inadvertently managed to conjure up. Poor boy: like her, he never meant to go looking for trouble, but it always seemed to find him. And he was the kindest, bravest, most generous and principled person she knew.

The thought made her smile softly to herself, and her hand tightened in her pocket around the folded piece of paper with his poem written on it.

XOXO

It was just as well in the end that Rayla decided to go to the gardens.

Callum had managed to get away from the main meeting, although Lord Tarren ambushed him along the way and was still asking for his opinion on the trades agreements when the others were leaving the hall. And then, as he was making a break for it, he saw Princess Irene and all but legged it down the first corridor he could reach.

It was hard to tell what the woman’s motive was. She must have been about four years older than him, and in Callum’s mind, must have had her pick of suitors, in Evenere and the rest of the Pentarchy. He himself was, at _best_ , a weak to moderate political match for matrimony – he and his descendants had no claim to the throne, and anything he had inherited from his stepfather in terms of land and titles were special gifts and dispensations, not a birth right, which in some circles was a very important distinction. It used to be a cause of never-ending grief from the gossipmongers, but now Callum was exceedingly grateful for his situation – it allowed him a lot more freedom in his decisions. And if he _were_ to marry, he knew there was only one person he wanted to share that with, and Rayla had never given a damn about his rank or title, or anything else of royal note he had to offer. Because she saw _him_ , with all his quirks and nonsense – and he rather liked the fact that she didn’t feel attracted to him physically; he had never quite piped up the courage to tell her this, but he liked knowing that she really did love him for his mind and personality above all else.

Whatever Irene’s fascination with him, she didn’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer. Hence, why he was running away, like a scared child in his own home, trying not to get caught. He could not fathom what she saw in the scrawny young man that he was, not even out of his teens yet, and who’s political sway was mostly between the Pentarchy and Xadia, not within the Pentarchy itself (which was where most of her own political agendas lay).

As Callum walked through the gardens, trying to look Princely and intent on some highly important errand for the King in the hopes of being left alone, someone grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the shadowed colonnade at the edge of the garden. He squeaked and flailed, reflexively going for a fulminis rune in self-defence, and sagged with blessed relief when a four fingered hand clapped itself over his mouth.

Rayla gave him an amused look as she pushed him up against a column and rested a hand on the cold stone by his head.

“Can I _help_ you?” he asked wryly, wondering what on earth she was up to this time.

Rayla smirked and took a step closer, gently caressing his face, lips parted and so teasingly close. “Just stand there, look pretty and pretend I said somethin’ ridiculously romantic.”

Callum blinked. He couldn’t think straight when she sprang on him like this and teased him with her breath on his lips where he wanted her mouth, and touched him with such deliberate tenderness. That he had been daydreaming about her on and off throughout the meeting didn’t help, either.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” she kissed him deeply, and he sighed into the contact with relief.

He knew she was up to something, but he didn’t really care. He’d had the morning from hell, and he just wanted to spend what time was left of this day with her, as they had planned. When she deepened the kiss further and wrapped her arms around his neck, he had no complaints, and held her in kind. Then she slid her arms back so that she was caressing his face, and then very deliberately trailed her hands down his neck, further still down his tunic, and pushed his cloak back so that she had easier access to the waistband of his trousers.

Callum pulled back, sighing when she bit his lip reflexively at the loss of pressure, and looked deeply into her eyes, breathless. “Any _particular_ reason why you’re molesting me?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining, far from it,” he reached down to take her wrists and stop her from doing something highly inappropriate for public viewing. “But this isn’t the best place for it.”

Rayla’s smile was a deep and complicated thing to behold, and he suddenly realised her attention wasn’t solely focused on him. She was listening intently, and her head was tilted towards the big double doors that led inside the nearest tower. “Someone’s watchin’. I’ll give y’three guesses.” She murmured quietly.

Callum’s eyes went wide, but he tried to school his expression. “Oh _no_ …” he groaned with defeat. “She followed me, didn’t she?” he tried not to sound desperate for escape.

Rayla’s smile turned rather sly, and she traced a line from his collarbone up to his cheek. “I’m just leavin’ a friendly reminder that you’re _mine_.” She bit his lip and leaned back, pulling it with her, in a very overt display of physical affection. “An’I want the whole world to know it. You’re _my_ plaything, and I don’t like sharin’.”

It was unfair how those words and that tone of voice made him feel inside. Callum had always been a hopeless romantic at heart, but Rayla took it to a whole different level.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“I haven’t demanded anythin’, yet.” She gave him an amused look and tapped his nose lovingly.

“The answer is still yes.”

“Oh wow. Now I _really_ hafta think about this.” Her smirk was devastating. “But for now, I’m just gonna focus on markin’ m’territory.” She leaned in again, and he gladly complied.

When she next pulled back from kissing him, Callum murmured, “I’ve never been so happy to be owned.”

“Be careful what you say.” She slid both hands inside his trousers and gripped his bare backside. “I am armed, aroused, and _extremely_ jealous. I’m capable of anythin’.”

“I really want you to take me. But not here,” he pleaded. If she kept doing that he wasn’t going to be able to control himself. The last thing he needed today was the High Council finding him with a raging erection and Rayla’s hands down his pants. He’d never hear the end of that one if they got caught.

“Hey!”

They both jumped out of their skins like startled rabbits as Ezran stomped across the middle of the garden. Rayla’s hands were out of his clothes so quickly that Callum blinked and missed the movement, finding her suddenly three paces away from him.

“Go have sex somewhere else!”

“Ezran!” Callum squeaked, utterly failing to sound like a big brother in control of the situation, his flushed cheeks turning scarlet.

“No one wants to see that!”

“Piss off, Ez,” Rayla sniped back, just as embarrassed as Callum.

“Rayla,” Callum said sternly.

“Fuck you, Rayla.”

“ _Ezran_!” Callum raised his voice. “Language!”

The King of Katolis pulled a face at his older brother, and kept on stomping purposefully towards the doors at the other end of the courtyard. Bait gave them both a baleful look before stomping along in his friend’s wake. When Callum could bring himself to look Rayla in the eye again, she had a hand over her mouth, eyes comically wide, and she giggled nervously. They both laughed over it, and when she touched his arm Callum wrapped her up in a big hug. He buried his nose in her hair and sighed contentedly; her scent was familiar and comforting to him.

“I’m not upset,” she giggled into his shoulder. “It’s actually quite amusin’.”

“He’s had a rough morning.” Callum said heavily, and smiled when she leaned back and stroked his face, to show emotional support rather than for the benefit of ‘marking her territory’. “Shouldn’t be yelling obscenities, though.”

Rayla’s smile turned into a frown, and she turned her head towards the sound he couldn’t catch. “I hear Opeli, Tarren and Simmons. And Karim.”

“Where is Irene?” he leaned closer and murmured in her ear.

“The vestibule behind me to the left.” Rayla turned to look in a window behind Callum while he watched her face. “Still there. Still watchin’.” She looked annoyed that the approaching Council members were forcing her to keep her hands to herself.

“Where’s the fastest exit?” Callum asked, and bit her lip to communicate his desires, running his tongue over it.

Rayla’s smile was bright and vivid. She took his hand and pulled him into the watery sunlight beyond the shadow of the colonnade. “This way,”

They ran to a relatively low wall that separated the rose garden from the herb garden on the other side. Rayla crouched down and linked her hands together to make a foot hold; Callum stepped onto her hands, and she lifted him up to the top of the wall. He flailed for a moment, trying to remain balanced as he descended, and managed to tumble to the ground on the other side with a yelp. Rayla’s carefree laughter rang in his ears as she scaled the wall after him with minimal effort and dropped down to the ground, landing between his legs at a crouch.

“Dummy,” she said, kissing his nose lovingly. Then she touched his chest with a soft look of concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I’m okay.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “All the better for seeing you.”

“Good,” she kissed his lips before she sprang to her feet. “C’mon. If we run, we should miss the duty guard at the east gate. We can still be in the woods before the end of lunch.”

“The bags-?”

“Already at the gate.” She looked so smug over her foresight today.

“You’re wonderful.” He told her as she took his hands and pulled him to his feet.

Rayla kissed him deeply and grabbed his backside again, mercifully over his trousers and under his cloak so that any passers-by wouldn’t necessarily know she was groping him with abandon. She pulled back, holding his hands and still grinning fiercely. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“I agree,” he smiled, squeezing her hands before he let her lead the way, laughing together.

XOXO

You knew it was getting bad when Callum was begging Rayla to come to a function with him when she didn’t strictly need to be there for diplomatic reasons, and had her own duties to see to. After explaining the situation to Amaya, she had agreed to give Rayla a couple of days off to help him, and sent Gren to the meetings to keep an eye on her nephew for her.

It perplexed Rayla, the situation Callum was stuck in. To her understanding, in some ways he was a good marital match, and in others not an advantageous match at all. Which made the Eveneren Princess’ attentions all the more baffling. He was the brother of the King – but most conversations she overheard wound up coming back round to the whole ‘yeah, _but_ , he’s not _actually_ Harrow’s son though, is he?’. It must have been wearing in the extreme, to be constantly reminded that he couldn’t legally claim the name ‘Harrowsson’, or that despite being the firstborn he’d never be as important as Ezran.

Rayla felt a lot better after sitting in Callum’s study and listening to the brothers plan out the day, making sure they both had the support they needed from their advisors and each other. She felt even better hearing Ezran acknowledge the bullshit surrounding succession and offer his apologies. Callum being Callum, he just smiled that deep, complicated smile of his and pulled his little brother into a bear hug, saying, “I love you, Ez.”

When they were finally ready to go, Rayla dusted off Callum’s shoulder and adjusted the circlet on his brow. She loved his messy, floppy hair that most often resembled a mop, and she enjoyed playing with it the longer the locks grew – she had great fun trying to rearrange everything so that you could actually see his forehead and the golden circlet. There was that one lock of hair that always wanted to flop across the very centre of his forehead, no matter what she did, and her attempts to tame it amused Callum. He kissed the heel of her palm, and she gave him a look that made him go all mushy and bashful.

Ezran made a sound of disgust as he straightened up from retying his boots. “Get a room, you two! On second thought,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and stomped towards the doors. “Just try to behave yourselves today.” He shot Rayla a pointed look, and she raised her hands in surrender.

“I reserve the right to stake m’claim if the _Princess_ can’t control herself.”

Ezran gave her a narrow look. “Control _your_ self.”

“Ez,” Callum said tiredly, fiddling with his cuff links. “We get it. Nothing inflammatory. Or Squishy.”

“ _Good_.” Ezran said, not _quite_ snapping, but…

He left the room in a huff, and Callum sighed heavily when Rayla looked at him. “Wow is he pissed off.”

Callum looked at the ceiling, summoning his patience. “With everyone casting aspersions on _my_ eligibility, they’ve started speculating on his, too.”

Rayla’s heart skipped, and not in a good way. She turned towards the doors to follow in Ezran’s wake. “Don’t mind me. I’m just a country bumpkin. Nothin’ t’see here.” She was, after all, by comparison from the back end of nowhere; things that were second nature to the Court boggled her mind.

Callum chuckled and took her hand as he followed. Ezran loomed around the doorframe with a scowl. “You coming or what?”

It was so tempting to crack a joke at Callum’s expense, but she had to keep her silliness under control. That, and much as she liked teasing Ez, she didn’t want to traumatise him. He was at that stage of adolescence where the only way he could deal with public displays of affection was to be really immature about it, and the boys didn’t need any more friction between them.

The function today itself wasn’t too bad; a smaller gathering of people, relating to some trade agreement within the Pentarchy itself, and a handful of other elves knocking around in the background for diplomacy’s sake. Lady Jila greeted them warmly, and hovered nearby while the brothers did their thing and Rayla stood by awkwardly, looking pretty and professional and hopefully not too bored. Princess Irene was off to the side, deep in conversation with Brindh and his oldest nephew; the teen caught Rayla’s eye and grinned, his hand flexing to give her a thumbs up but refraining because it wasn’t the politic thing to do. She smiled back, and saw movement in the corner of her vision; she turned to find Nia waving merrily, wings carefully folded in to look small and inoffensive.

With Callum safely tucked into a corner with Ez, Opeli and Jila, Rayla kissed his cheek in brief farewell and went to go see what Nia wanted.

“How are you this fine day?” Rayla asked brightly.

“Enjoying how everyone’s trying their utmost to be polite,” Nia replied in Common Elven, grinning. She flexed her wings for emphasis. “It’s funny watching the humans try to not look. All the other elves just stare. Very few of either have ever seen wings this close up.”

Rayla pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Havin’ fun?”

Nia beamed and looked sidelong at Serena, who was watching with a raised eyebrow and folded arms. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”

“Honestly,” the Tidebound elf said in the Common Tongue, startling one of the younger ministers in the huddle beside them. “You and Brock. I don’t know what we’ll do with you.”

Rayla grinned. “I heard the story about the barrels and the rip tide.”

Nia’s eyes went wide. “Ah. None of you youngsters were meant to know about that.” She gestured to herself grandly. “We elders are meant to exude a sense of authority and sensibleness.”

Serena snorted with playfully derisive laughter. Rayla was distracted by Lord Tarren running across the room and accosting Callum, dragging him out of the bubble he had been in. She watched carefully from the corner of her eye, only half listening to the other elves, who struck up a conversation with their human neighbours. No sooner had Tarren left Callum alone, Princess Irene descended on him, and Rayla carefully excused herself from the fold to go rescue him.

“-It’s such a shame you won’t come to Evenere,” Irene was saying with a dramatic, lamenting sigh.

“As I said before,” Callum said evenly. “I’m most needed here for the time being.”

Irene touched his shoulder, and took another step forward when he tried to back up. “I’m sure I could change your mind, if you let me.” Her voice took on a more sultry tone.

“I – _really_ don’t think you will.” Callum deliberately caught her wrist and held her arm away from him. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to-”

“I don’t know why you’re being so coy,” she went on in a low voice.

Callum looked like a cub caught out at midday, and when he saw Rayla moving towards him his relief was palpable. She slid neatly in between them, and took Callum’s hand before planting herself firmly by his side.

“Sorry about that,” she said, as though they were continuing an earlier conversation, and kissed his cheek.

“Don’t be,” he squeezed her hand and leaned closer so that their noses touched, and she smiled at him. “I don’t believe you’ve been introduced,” he said politely to Princess Irene, who’s face had become carefully schooled into something cool and neutral. “This is Lady Rayla of the Silvergrove,” she bowed as her name was spoken. “And this is Princess Irene of Evenere.”

The woman looked her up and down with overt deliberation. “Charmed. In Evenere women are expected to curtsey to royalty.”

Rayla narrowed her eyes, bristling. “Well it’s a good job we’re in Katolis then.” She was suddenly very aware of her own accent, and her Xadian tunic.

Sensing that Rayla wasn’t prepared to back down, Callum tried to diffuse the situation by saying, “Did you want to discuss the plans with Opeli…?”

“So, I’m _curious_ ,” Princess Irene interrupted in a tone that was just a bit scathing. “How long have you two known each other?” she didn’t look directly at their linked hands, fingers laced together, but her attention seemed to be fixed on it.

“About…” Callum looked to Rayla for confirmation. “Five years, now?”

“Will be in the spring.” She confirmed.

“And, how _exactly_ did the two of you meet?”

Rayla nearly baulked. Amongst friends and family, they spun a hilarious tale of the moonlight glinting off her blades, of falling in love at first sight, of her incredulity at his sheer clumsiness as she chased him across the castle (at least, that’s how they had described it to Amaya and Ethari when asked). The truth was a bit different, and it was fairly common knowledge that Rayla had first set foot in Orphan’s Rock with the intent of killing Prince Ezran. Seeing as how, like the soldiers, she had just been doing her duty, and had since proven her loyalties, very few held that against her. Bringing this topic up in general was bad enough, but the connotations with Callum’s father made it extremely rude and insensitive.

“It’s a long story.” Callum said carefully, squeezing Rayla’s hand to steady her. “But it ends with finding the egg of the Dragon Prince.”

Irene didn’t look satisfied with that answer. “I’m sure it’s quite the tale,”

“It is. And it will have to wait for another time. If you’ll excuse us,” he tried to leave with Rayla, but Irene held out a hand to stop him.

“I _do_ hope we’ll have another opportunity to talk before I leave.” She said in a voice that was almost a purr.

Rayla really wanted to slap her arm away, but settled for fixing her with a scowl.

“My schedule is pretty busy right now.” Was all Callum said, squeezing back when Rayla reflexively gripped even tighter.

“Pity.” Irene said. She went as far as leaning a hand on the wall beside Callum’s head, boxing him in. “I would have so liked to have seen more of you,” she said purposefully.

Callum’s eyes went rather wide, and he stumbled backwards into Rayla’s shoulder. Rayla herself was gobsmacked at this woman’s audacity; this was his kingdom, this castle was his home, she had been told multiple times he wasn’t interested, and Rayla _knew_ she had seen them groping each other in the rose garden yesterday. There was no room for pleading ignorance. That, and Rayla was standing right fucking _there_.

Irene flicked her hand, taking a lock of his hair between her fingers, and Callum lifted his arm to sweep her hand away, sinking into a defensive posture as he did so. He was so agitated that his limited martial arts training was kicking in. Pressing her wrist more firmly against his confirmed that his pulse had spiked.

“Is there a problem here?” Rayla asked in a bored tone, and Callum’s head snapped round, silently begging her not to do anything stupid.

Rayla was _almost_ beyond caring by this point. Irene looked her up and down again, like she wasn’t impressed with what she saw. “I’m sorry?” she asked insolently.

“I thought it was pretty obvious your advances are unwanted.” Rayla said pointedly, angling her body so she was standing half a step in front of Callum in a protective stance.

Irene really loved her once overs – it seemed to be one of her favourite insults. Or a stalling tactic. “You seem full of yourself, my dear. Tell me, does Prince Callum keep you around _just_ for diplomatic reasons? Or just to fulfil some more _base_ needs? I’m sure that accent makes everything seem so much more exotic,”

Callum exhaled heavily like he had been punched in the gut; Rayla just continued to stare her down. “That is uncalled for.” Callum said in that low tone of his that signified anger.

“You think so?” Irene challenged

Rayla was rather proud of herself later on for not hitting the woman in that moment. But by Garlath’s Boots was it hard.

“You are completely out of line.” Callum said, his voice tight with supressed rage. It grated on Rayla’s ears; he was rarely ever angry. “Remember who’s Court you are in, and I _beg_ that you would remember your place.”

At just that moment, someone exclaimed loudly, “Uncle Brindh!” and Rayla recognised Seb’s voice. “It’s been so long! Bran! How are you!?”

The Dark mage’s nephew stared at him in confusion as all eyes in the immediate vicinity turned to them. “Um…Hi, Seb?” he replied uncertainly.

Seb continued loudly, “Oh wow, it’s like the Pentarchy Pride over here, isn’t it? We _just_ need someone from Evenere to complete the set…ah! Princess Irene, would you indulge me?”

She looked startled, lips parted in surprise, wide eyed at the spectacle Seb was creating. Bran was staring at him like he thought the guy had completely lost his mind, but Brindh saved the day by coming forward, taking the Princess’ had jovially, and leading her over to the group with a bland smile.

Ariadne appeared from the crowd and grabbed Callum’s other hand while Brindh was doing this, and Rayla followed her lead, dragging him out of harm’s way. As they passed Ariadne’s mother and sister, Rayla heard a snippet of the conversation. Adila was hiding behind her hand, cringing hard, while Jila watched with raised eyebrows.

“I’m going to _kill_ those two,” Adila snarled under her breath, the calm façade of a practised diplomat completely gone out the window.

“Well, you must admit, they are nothing if not resourceful.” Her mother patted down her skirts and folded her hands neatly. “That and your father would have found this amusing.”

“With _respect,_ Mother. You married an idiot!” Adila hissed back.

“You are so fuckin’ smooth.” Rayla told Ariadne as they deposited Callum by Ezran’s side.

“You okay?” Ez asked anxiously, letting Corvus stand between them and Irene.

“Yeah, fine.” He winced and rubbed at his chest. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he added to Rayla when she put an arm around his shoulders.

“I did warn Seb not to lay it on _too_ thick.” Ariadne pulled a face. “I’m just glad we didn’t need to deploy Soren. You think _this_ is bad,” she nodded at the double act Brindh and Seb had going.

“Hey, my plan was good too.” Soren snapped at her, appearing from behind Opeli, who was not looking overly impressed with the proceedings.

“Oh thank the Fates _you_ didn’t get involved.” Rayla said to him with a grin. “She’d be goin’ home in a match box.”

“To be fair, that might still happen.” Ezran commented, eyebrows raised. “Look at the way Bran’s scowling.”

“I think,” Opeli said over the hushed conversation with a disapproving air, “My Lords and Ladies, that that is _quite_ enough.”

Ariadne looked at Seb, and then back to the High Cleric. “I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that I have no control over him whatsoever.” To her credit, she didn’t flinch at the hard look Opeli gave her.

Nia strolled over, and sidestepped her way into the group. She leaned over Ariadne to press the back of her hand against Callum’s brow. “Oh no. Prince Callum, you appear to have a temperature.”

“Oh dear,” Rayla simpered, clutching his arm dramatically, and grinning when he gave her a sardonic look. “I think he needs a sick note.”

“Well, I have been authorised by his Healer to dispense such notes. Would you like that written in ink or blood?”

“Okay,” Callum raised his hands and tried to placate all involved. “Rein the silliness in everyone, please. Before something unfortunate happens.”

Seb got Brindh and a couple of other poor souls to start a traditional drinking song with him, and Adila’s snarl of exasperation was heard over the cacophony.

“Too late.” Ariadne said under her breath. Then, turning to look at Callum and Rayla properly, added, “I’d scarper if I were you.”

“Done.” Rayla grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door.

“Hey!”

They paused to look back. Ariadne pointed at herself and then at Seb. “You owe us two jelly tarts from the King’s platter.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Callum promised before Rayla yanked on his arm.

They were almost to the door before Gren reached them, looking concerned. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“Those two jokers beat ya to it,” Rayla said with a grin, pointing at Seb before she pulled Callum into the corridor. When they were far enough away from the hall, she slipped them into an alcove so she could check on him. “I _hate_ you bein’ a Prince, some days.” She told him heavily once she was sure he was alright.

Callum gave her a tired smile, and reciprocated her gentle kiss. “Wine and then bed?”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not even two o’clock.”

“I’m done with today. And I have a sick note.” He gave her a wry smile, and she hugged him.

They went back to his rooms and shared a Del Barian wine together to honour Brindh’s sacrifice of his dignity, and retired to the sofa for a snuggle. Rayla was happily dosing off and daydreaming in his arms when Callum said in a small voice, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Stupid woman should have more sense.” Rayla said bluntly.

“All the same, I don’t like putting you in situations where you have to deal with that.”

Rayla tilted her head to look at him. “You can’t protect me from everythin’.”

He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. “I know.” After a slightly stormy silence, he said, “And for the record, while I like your accent, it’s _not_ the reason I’m attracted to you.”

Rayla sniggered. “ _Sure_ it’s not,” she drawled, letting her accent hang thickly on her tongue. “It’s my big purple eyes and m’winnin’ smile.”

Callum poked her in the ribs. “And your magnificent horns.”

“You’d love me more if I had pinkos.” She wiggled her hands in front of his face, and Callum blinked.

“Pinkies,” he corrected, taking her hand. “And no I wouldn’t.”

Rayla laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was meant to be a casual and friendly gesture – but then she got a good look at his lips, and the next thing she knew they were kissing gently. She adjusted her arms more securely and deepened their embrace, smiling when his hand slid comfortably from her knee up around the back of her thigh, squeezing gently. Because that was her dear, sweet Callum: gentle, affectionate, loving – unabashedly so. So very different to how she had been raised, the people she had grown up with, where overt affection was practically subtext.

“I love listening to your voice,” he murmured against her lips.

Rayla gave him a sly smile, the cogs in her head turning towards mischief. Callum had just enough time to register the change in her demeanour and to start looking worried before she threw her head back. In a very loud, exaggerated tone that highlighted her foreign accent, she cried, “Oh Callum! You’re so _big_! Please, be gentle as you take me!” he leaned his brow against hers, putting his free hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at her stupid antics. Rayla grinned and took his face between her hands, simpering demurely as she continued. “Oh it’s _too much_! You’re _too big_ for me to handle, I can’t-!” she really couldn’t continue, it was too much to keep herself from laughing.

Callum was hiding his face in his hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck again and kissed his cheek, giggling like an idiot. She laughed harder when she felt his shoulders shaking from the effort it took not to follow suit. Eventually, he braced his weight on one arm, and lowered his other hand to caress her hip, giving her a tightly controlled smile, eyes bright with amusement and affection.

“So I’m thinking about my epitaph,” he said idly, tracing a sprawling pattern against the outside of her leg.

“Oh yeah?” she tapped his nose lovingly.

“Yeah.” He touched the small of her back with one hand and kissed her nose in return. He gestured grandly with his other hand, saying “‘Here lies the earthly remains of Prince Callum’s dignity’,” Rayla dissolved into giggles again, and he gave her an impish smile before going off on a dramatic tirade of his own. “Killed before its time, upon the razor-sharp wit of an overzealous Moonshadow-” Rayla scoffed loudly, then laughed when he clumsily lunged and pressed her down against the cushions. “May his dignity rest in pieces, for all eternity!” he kissed her throat, paying close attention to the pulse point, and she bit her lip, struggling for composure.

Callum tried to straighten up and sit back on his ankles, but he somehow managed to topple off the edge of the couch onto the floor; trying to crack more witticisms against her people and instead landing in a heap on the rug with a very undignified squeak.

That did it. Rayla curled herself into a ball and howled with laughter at his expense, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, clutching her stomach as it started to ache. Eventually, she calmed down enough to roll over and peak at him. Callum smiled sheepishly up at her, carefully getting onto his knees and shuffling closer.

“You are _such_ an idiot,” she said comfortably in her native tongue, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing again.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a sigh, smiling shyly at her before he tried to go in for a kiss. “But I’m _your_ idiot.”

“Too right,” she murmured against his lips, enjoying the way it felt when he smiled. She let him crawl back up next to her, and indulged him when he tried to cuddle. They both needed the reassurance today.

“What about my voice do you love?” she eventually asked softly as she stroked his hair. She raised an eyebrow when he flashed her an impish smile, his cheeks flushed.

“Lots of things…”

“Care to be more specific?”

Callum reached up and brushed the hair off her face, letting the long pale strands tangle around his fingers. “I love your accent.” He told her, blushing more deeply. “And the sincerity in your tone when you speak.”

“Even when I’m laughin’ at ye?” she teased.

“Especially then.” He kissed her mouth, and she let him deepen it, curious about where he was leading them. “It means I’m still the centre of your attention,”

Rayla sighed with exasperation and rolled her eyes. “Your ego has an insatiable appetite.”

“Oh, _you’re_ one to talk,” he pinched her hip playfully.

“Excuse me?” she asked flatly, giving him the ‘I’m totally unimpressed’ face. It was a lie and they both knew it.

“If you had your way, I’d be tied to the bed all night every night just for your pleasure. I’m glad I get a respite once a month, else you’d probably kill me. I’d never keep up.”

A thought occurred to her, but she kept it up her sleeve for the moment. Rayla wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “Maybe so…” she said, pretending to deliberate as she played with his hair. He gave her that warm, gentle, incredibly squishy smile of his that screamed ‘I love you’, and she indulged in a long, slow, lingering kiss with lots of tongue and caresses. “Callum,” she murmured eventually as she delicately ran her fingers through his hair, tracing lines on his scalp where horns would have been if he had been born Xadian.

For a Moonshadow elf, it was a deeply intimate gesture, and he knew it.

“Yes?”

Time to make the thought an action. With slow deliberation she spread her legs so that he settled between them, and then brought her thighs closer together so they rubbed against the sides of his hips. “I love your voice too.” She nipped his bottom lip, listening to the uneven rate of his breathing. “And your stupid heartfelt speeches. I love the sound of your voice, when you’re between m’legs-”

“Rayla,” his voice was unsteady, barely more than a whisper. His face was pressed against her vulnerable throat, a hand on the base of her spine, the other arm shaking as it supported his weight.

“When you’re inside me,” she whispered, biting his ear and enjoying the fresh hitch to his breathing. “When I feel every inch of your body against mine, and you say wonderful things like _I love_ you. _Need_ you,” she pulled at his hair and raked her teeth across his neck, dipping down to leave a bruise just below his collar bone where no one but her would see it. “The way you moan m’name when I scratch your back. And when I have my legs wrapped around your waist, the way it changes how _everythin’_ feels-”

“Fuck,” Callum gasped into her shoulder.

Rayla let her lips hover right next to his ear, grinning lazily. “Oh, _please do_ ,”

Callum may have been a warm, squishy, soft hearted person, but he was also at his core a consummate people pleaser. If Rayla could give him enough incentive, he was an animal in bed. And she had just given him one hell of an incentive to perform.

The last coherent words to pass her lips were: “Make me scream,”

And because he was Callum, he made it his mission not to disappoint.

XOXO

As the full moon came and went, Rayla was in a pretty bad mood. Her monthly date with Callum had been interrupted, the weather had turned icy and cold instead of wet and cold so the roof tops were even more slick and dangerous, and that damn letter from Ethari haunted the back corners of her mind when she wasn’t occupied with something else. And Princess Irene continued to lurk about the place; Callum resorted to illusion magic to sneak by unseen more than once, and they got into an argument over it because he wasn’t supposed to be using magic. The kind of illusion spells he used were classed as ‘higher level’, and harder to defend than the small-scale charms he had been getting away with. The pair of them rarely, if ever these days, got angry with each other, but the argument got a bit heated at one point.

Rayla’s bad mood was mostly down to the fact that Callum had point blank refused to promise not to overexert himself. Honestly, he was just as petulant as Ezran, only he was better at keeping it under control. They had glowered at each other, agreed to disagree for the moment, and both went in different directions to cool off. It’s what they always did, and it had always worked; that didn’t make it any easier for Rayla as she traipsed around the yard at the barracks, kicking stones as she went. It was almost a relief when Soren ambled past and asked her to run some errands for the Crownguard at the stables; something to do to take her mind off of things.

It didn’t take long – just checking on a couple of the horses, dropping a package off, and grabbing someone’s ceremonial armour from the smithy on the way back. Rayla reflexively baulked and ducked aside when she saw Malra at the stables, and was quite sure she hadn’t been subtle about it as she felt eyes boring into the back of her head as she made a break for the main doors.

On the way back, Rayla tried to get Barius to take her on for the afternoon, but he was busy up in the castle setting up for one of the fancier diplomat meetings, and the guy who was running the bakery in his stead in the meantime was a hard arse who didn’t like interferences from _anyone_. Still, it was worth getting berated and sent away from the kitchens, because Nate had been there at the same time, and swiped a handful of pastries out of spite while the jackass baker got really snarky with Rayla.

“Serves him right.” Nate said smugly, toasting Rayla with his swirly pastry topped with icing and chopped nuts. “Have another on me,” he tossed a jelly tart high, and grinned when Rayla caught it one handed without looking. “You, uh…seem a bit-” he began, and stopped when she glared at him.

“We’re not talkin’ about it.” She said flatly.

“Fair enough, fair enough.” Nate said vaguely, looking away across the courtyard.

He still tried to sneak a cinnamon bun into her pocket, and of course she noticed, and while she pretended to growl with exasperation, she still whipped around a quiet corner at the first opportunity and scoffed it down happily when no one was looking. It felt good knowing people had her back around here, and were attuned enough to notice when things were amiss, even if she didn’t want the attention. Nate was a good guy – he had his uncle’s knack of tacitly understanding what people needed, albeit less polished and practised.

Rayla was on her way back to the barracks after dropping everything off, wondering what she was going to do with herself for the rest of the day, when she bumped into Malra down a narrow passageway. That had high walls and would be difficult to covertly escape from. She knew she couldn’t run from them forever, but right now Rayla didn’t feel like she could cope with a polite and politic conversation with her kin. For a long moment, the two elves just looked at each other; not _at_ each other, just in the general direction of each other, completely silent.

“Hi.” Malra eventually said stiltedly, looking like she would likewise prefer to be somewhere else.

“Hello.” Rayla replied, tense and anxious.

There was another long, awkward pause, and then Malra broke the silence. “I…have somethin’ I need to say.”

Rayla closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath before she looked the other elf in the eye. Malra gazed back stubbornly, jaw set. She also closed her eyes momentarily, gathering herself.

“When we were kids, I didn’t see the immense pressure you were under.”

Rayla blinked. That wasn’t quite what she had been expecting.

“Everyone kept goin’ on about how proud they were of Lain and Tiadrin, and how we all expected great things from you. The Daughter of the Dragonguard – we all knew you were headed for big things. And then, you became Runaan’s protégé. And I guess,” she hesitated, looking _really_ uncomfortable, rubbing her elbow self-consciously. “I s’pose, a lot of us got quite jealous at times. You were talented, everyone talked about you and what you were gonna achieve. Runaan _never shut up_ about you. He was so proud of you and everythin’ y’did. But we didn’t see all the pressure that put on you. So when-” she bit her lips and dropped her gaze. “When we heard what had happened to the Dragon King…”

Rayla couldn’t bring herself to look at Malra. That had been an awful day, one she tried not to think about very often. At first, she had thought her parents had been killed in the attack, and then the news came that the entire guard had – as far as everyone knew – abandoned their posts. She knew now that wasn’t true, but she still cringed away from the memory of how she had felt. So angry, bitter, and deeply hurt. Everyone had commented on how like her parents she was until that day; suddenly everything she had ever been was stained, and she had felt utterly worthless.

They were both silent for a long time. Eventually, looking like it was costing her a great deal of effort, Malra went on, “We judged you wrong. And I’m so sorry for it. I- I couldn’t believe…I didn’t _want_ to believe, that you weren’t who I thought y’were. But…I did the spell anyway,” and she looked completely ashamed for it. “B’cause – I-I didn’t know what else to do. The Council is wrong to not lift it. And then, with the threat of real, _actual_ war hangin’ over our heads, with Aaravos an’all, we all suddenly had to grow up. We all had to take responsibility for the Silvergrove while all the warriors left to fight. And I never understood how hard it was for you as a kid, until suddenly I had all that expectation on me, to do everythin’ right the first time round and never mess up, because now e’veryone was coutin’ on me t’do m’job to keep the town goin’.” Malra spread her hands uselessly, eyes down cast. “I’m sorry. That’s…that’s all I wanted to say.”

She was about to turn and walk away, but she paused, startled by the hand Rayla placed on her shoulder. For a long moment, Rayla just looked at her, fighting down the tears that pricked painfully behind her eyes.

“Thank you.” She said, her voice rough.

Malra put a hand on hers and squeezed, then she turned and walked away quickly. It had been a very intense display of emotion for Moonshadow elves, and it was almost too much for the pair of them; even Rayla, who had spent a lot of time around squishy, open people like Callum and Ez, was struggling to cope with it. She had to go find a nice dark, quiet nook up on the rooftops, in a place where Aibeck wouldn’t be able to climb so easily, and had a good cry over it all.

It was so unexpected and she was unprepared for it, but in a way that made it rather liberating: it eased not only the pain of being banished, but gave her permission to feel the weight of her own guilt for having banished her parents in a healthier way. Like, knowing that Malra regretted what she had done simply because it was what their society expected her to do, made it easier to let go of her own emotions. As Callum had gently pointed out to her on multiple occasions: what _else_ was she to have made of the information she’d had at the time?

It was painful and cathartic and probably what she really needed right now.

But that didn’t mean she was going to be graceful about it.

XOXO

After having eventually calmed down, and sat through the afternoon meetings with his head in the clouds, Callum went looking for Rayla. He finally found her a little before dinner time down by the river, skimming stones across the half-frozen water.

“You…okay?” he asked lamely, touching her arm hesitantly, their argument fresh in his mind.

Rayla’s eyes were red rimmed, which made his heart clench painfully, but the small smile she gave him was genuine. “Yeah. Bit wrung out, is all.” She tossed another stone, and it skipped over the surface of the slow moving water before bouncing onto the ice near the opposite bank, and skidding a fair distance before it slid over a gap in the thing crust and sank to the river bed. “I talked to Malra.” She explained, and leaned into his touch when Callum wordlessly put an arm around her waist and waited for her to be able to speak. “She said sorry.” She took a deep, ragged breath, and wrapped her arms around him as Callum gently smoothed the hair back off her face. “These are happy tears, I _swear_ ,” she gestured at her face as she started to dissolve again.

When Callum lifted his other arm, she completely buried herself in his embrace, shoulders shaking gently with every intermittent sob. He didn’t say anything, just stroked her hair and held her, wordlessly letting her know that he was there for her, however she needed him. When she was ready, she carefully let go and leaned back so she could look him full in the face.

“I’m okay,” she murmured, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes.

“Do you…want to be alone right now?” he asked quietly.

“Not really.” She gave him a watery smile. “I’d rather be with you. If you’re not snowed under with Council business…”

Callum rolled his eyes dramatically, really hamming it up to lighten the mood. “Lord Tarren’s homemade statistical report on last year’s export records is _not_ Council business.”

Rayla blinked, trying to determine whether he was joking or not. She tilted her head to one side, eyes halfway closing, the corner of her mouth twisting into a wry smile.

“That guy just doesn’t know when to quit.” She said eventually.

Callum held his arms wide. “I think _I_ need a hug,” he said tiredly with a smile.

Rayla wrapped him up in her arms, and he relaxed into her embrace with a sigh of contentment. The bruises he had been nursing in his heart most of the day dissolved with the gentle contact. When they were both ready, they went for a quiet walk along the river, and then back to his rooms where they could eat in peace away from prying eyes. It was one of those nice, quiet evenings where they just relaxed in each other’s company; nothing needed to be said, they just curled up together, each involved with their own projects as they wound down for the day.

Callum started reading a book about fossil plants, and then ended up sketching some of the pictures from the pages, expanding on them and creating beautiful, intricately detailed mosaic patterns, like the ones in the temple at the Ocean Nexus. Rayla gave her swords some love and attention of their own, testing the locking mechanism and oiling the joints to keep them moving smoothly. Then she took a whet stone and ran it carefully over the edges of each blade in turn, starting with the Slash hand before moving onto the Slish one.

Once the swords were properly cared for, Rayla put them away and leaned back against Callum’s side, smiling and turning her face into his shoulder when he slid his arm around her waist, eyes still on his drawing.

“I should really write to m’parents.” Rayla said contemplatively.

“I think they’d be glad to hear from you.” Callum assented, rubbing his cheek against her hair.

Rayla yawned and stretched dramatically before she fell back onto the cushioned sofa in a graceful heap. She gave him a quizzical smile in response to the gooey expression he was pulling at her. He was completely head over heels for her, how else did she expect him to look at her?

“I need to write back to Ethari, too.” She added thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling.

“Did you want to do that now, or…?”

Rayla smiled and poked his face playfully. “Nah. That’s Future Rayla’s problem. Right now,” she slid into an upright position and hooked her arms over his shoulder, giving him the kind of smile that further turned his insides into a warm mushy mess. “I’m Present Callum’s problem.”

Callum obligingly closed both books and set them aside, so that he could give her his full attention. “You’re never a problem.” He told her firmly, wrapping her up in his arms.

“Ohh, is that a _challenge_ Mage Boy?” she teased.

“Merely an observation,” he murmured, kissing her. “Joking aside,” he went on, looking her deeply in the eye. “You’re not a problem, or a burden. And you’re worth taking the effort to look after and make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m teasin’,” she rolled her eyes. “You take everythin’ so seriously, Callum.”

“It’s important to me that you know that.” He refused to budge on the issue.

Rayla gave him an unguarded, incredibly tender look, tracing the lines of his face with her fingers. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t fret.”

“Someone has to think about you,” he countered, lacing their fingers together and lifting her left hand so he could kiss the inside of her wrist. He lingered there for a long and comfortable moment. “You’re always so busy looking after everyone else, you don’t stop to do the same for yourself.”

Rayla raised an eyebrow, trying and spectacularly failing to hide her smirk. “Oh, what’s that human phrase?” she tapped a free finger against her chin before poking his nose. “The one where the pot calls the kettle out for bein’ the same colour?”

Callum chuckled and kissed her cheek. “I guess you could say we’re made for each other.”

“That,” she pretended to give him a dull look, but her eyes were bright and sparkling with mischief. “Or we’re two of the biggest idiots in the world.”

“Like I said,” he retorted with a careless tone, pretending to lean back against the couch but giving her a playful, sidelong glance. He grinned when she just tilted her head, slowly shaking it, with his favourite sardonic smile. And because he was a complete sucker for her, Callum turned around with a bright smile and kissed her lips lovingly, grinning when she kissed back equally tender.

“Just promise me one thing?” she murmured, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, just below the ear.

Callum was just a bit wary; she had said something similar to him earlier, when they had been arguing. “What?” he asked cautiously.

Rayla smiled and kissed the junction of his neck. “If y’ _do_ go round castin’ spells. _Please_ , go to Brock if your wound starts actin’ up. Sooner, rather than later?” as she spoke, she lifted her free hand, and cupped his cheek with it as she kissed him again.

Callum closed his eyes and rubbed his other cheek against her horn. “Yeah, I promise.” It pricked his pride to admit she was right, but there it was.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” She added in a small voice, after a long and comfortable pause.

Callum chuckled and kissed the crown of her head. “You wouldn’t be you, if you didn’t fret.” He laughed when her hand smacked the side of his head.

“Smart Aleck.” She said, tone unimpressed.

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” Callum said with an unrepentant grin.

Rayla stretched her arms lazily, folded them, and snuggled into his side. “If you’re plannin’ on sleepin’ alone tonight, you’re goin’ about it the right way.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, but it gets so _cold_ at night,” he pouted at her, and when her gaze settled on his bottom lip, he exaggerated the pout even more.

“Fuck you Callum.” She said comfortably, still watching his mouth. “Fuck you and your damn doe eyes and your soft lips and your squishy heart.”

“Have I convinced you yet?” he batted his eyes at her.

Rayla snarled, rolled her eyes, and glowered at him, before closing her eyes and leaning in to kiss him softly, fingers tangling in his scarf. He brought a hand to caress her face, and without breaking the kiss she reached over to pull the fingerless glove from his hand before nudging it back to her face. He smiled, and then grinned when the corners of her mouth twitched upwards as well. Then they snuggled up again, enjoying each other’s presence, arms wrapped securely around one another.

Eventually, he piped up. “I’m sorry, too.” Rayla tilted her head towards him, but refused to leave the warm and cosy nook she had found on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you.”

“You weren’t.” she sighed. “I don’t blame you for resortin’ to magic to escape Princess Irene. You know I’d be a nightmare if I could actually cast magic.”

Callum laughed, and then again even harder when she poked him in the ribs. “That awkward moment when the idiot without an Arcanum is the better magic user.” He teased her.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” Rayla said in a bored tone, yawning widely. “Fuck you, Callum.”

“Only way I’d have it.” He shot back with a sly smile.

“Oh, be careful what you wish for, _mage_ _boy_.” She said in that bored drawl of hers. She dug her fingers into his shirt, finding his weak points through the fabric that made him melt.

“I love you, Rayla.” He murmured, in her native dialect.

Her responding smile warmed him all the way through.

Things were still stressful, and the moment he stepped out that door he would be subjected to a barrage of demands for his attention and opinion – but right now, he was very comfortable on this sofa, wrapped up in his lover’s arms. That they could weather arguments and navigate their messy emotions together made him very happy, and utterly content.


	7. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting, I’ve been on babysitting duty for family xD we’ve all gone a bit stir crazy during lockdown, the kids have effectively been on holiday since March and they’re a bigger handful than usual. Expect a few more delays in the near future.

The following week it became bitterly cold, and Callum could smell the threat of snow in the air most mornings. He managed to dodge Princess Irene for the remainder of her stay in Katolis through mage training. Nia and Brock bickered over it for a few days, and eventually Callum’s whining forced the Earth mage to concede. He was still on a strict no Sun magic policy because of the nature of the wound, but he got to play around with more complex illusion spells (mostly to make Ezran laugh and to delight the children at Court), and Nia picked up where Ibis had left off with his Sky magic. The best bit was that they included a broad range of people in their antics, both human and elf from every kingdom and clan, who were curious and eager to learn more about magic and each other’s cultures.

Callum was pretty sure there were a few people who would be able to make a connection to an arcanum before long, providing they practised diligently and under careful guidance. Most of what Callum was doing with his own training was to brush off the rust his enforced rest had accumulated. Nia had a wind vane, essentially a little orb made from thick wire with a series of shaped fans like a windmill in the centre, hinged on a central bracket, which was often used to hone the fine motor control needed for spells like aspiro and all of its derivatives. It was an excellent ice breaker, playing air hockey with the other Sky mages, as well as being a good way to keep tabs on how the Xadian visit was going through casual conversation. Plus, Callum loved every minute he could spare from his duties engaging in magic based group activities like this.

He loved it even more when the delegates from Evenere left the capital, and he managed to accidentally on purpose miss the send-off because he was still at the top of the astronomy tower, debating the finer points of lighting versus thunder spells. He had to make his apologies to the resident ambassador, taking care to make sure there were witnesses, and Nia very graciously took on the blame for the incident. As she claimed, she had kept the Prince longer than necessary – what she didn’t admit to was deliberately failing to kick him out at the allotted time, and encouraging the debate to continue on for another half an hour. The apology was accepted, and Callum was under the distinct impression that the ambassador was as glad to be shot of Irene as the rest of them. The man’s shoulders visibly lifted after she left, and he seemed a lot more comfortable as he went about his duties.

Rayla was over the Moon – almost literally. After all the stress and worry over the coming winter and its visitors, things seemed to have settled down for her. Irene was gone, and she was starting to rebuild her fractured relationship with her kin; Malra was making a concerted effort to reconnect with Rayla, going as far as sitting with the Katolian soldiers around their fire most evenings and to keep Rayla company when she was on guard duty. Callum had spoken to her a few times – she was always pleasant, mostly reserved and a bit closed off, but then again that was the Moonshadow way. Rayla told him that they had gone for a couple of moonlit runs across the roof tops, and even Aibeck had joined in last time, although he was jumpy and inarticulate the rest of the time around Rayla. According to Dylan and Ariadne, the guy _never_ shut up in the infirmary, and was a veritable font of knowledge on medicinal plants. That he had simply joined in and made an effort at all to talk to her was enough for Rayla.

With Princess Irene gone, and Callum no longer having to fend off her attentions, Rayla visibly relaxed even more. The last incident before her departure had ended with Soren swooping in to save the day, and on Rayla’s suggestion, had overtly flirted with the woman to give her a taste of her own medicine. He was complaining about it for weeks afterwards, and insisted that both Callum and Rayla owed him because _ewww_ was that woman not attractive to him in any way, shape or form. Rayla had rolled her eyes, grabbed Callum amidst the commotion, and dragged him out of the firing line, for which he was exceedingly grateful. He was getting concerned that if the Princess didn’t give it up, he was going to have to escalate the situation and make an official complaint – which didn’t look good so close to the Summit. Some Xadians were reluctant to engage with the Pentarchy on diplomatic matters, citing the sometimes fractious nature of the humans’ own alliance as just one of the reasons; there was no need to give the naysayers more ammunition, if it could be avoided.

Callum wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or not to hear from Ariadne that Princess Irene was known for this sort of behaviour, though it certainly mollified Rayla to know that she would have likely lost interest in him by the time their paths inevitably crossed again. Miriam found out via her network that the Princess was mostly intrigued by Callum’s exotic abilities with Primal magic, as well as his unusual injury. It made him different and stand out against the long line of other potential suitors. And, as Ariadne pointed out, she hadn’t been accustomed to being told ‘no’ whilst growing up, and didn’t know how to cope with it as an adult.

It both flattered and exasperated Callum when Rayla said, with that sly and sardonic smile of hers that he always scowled at but secretly loved, “She only liked ye for your battle scars. I love you, _in spite_ of’em.”

There were lots of different things Callum could have said to that, but he settled for rolling his eyes, kissing her cheek, and promising to see her later.

When later finally came around, after another series of Summit related meetings, Rayla asked Callum if he would be the dominant one in bed that night. He was a bit surprised, but as ever happy to oblige her; generally speaking, Rayla didn’t like feeling helpless, or begging, so Callum was usually cautious with how far he went unless she asked for something specifically. After they had a quick and flirty conversation to mark out the boundaries for the evening, Callum got to work, wishing to make her feel both safe and loved.

Very gently, Callum tied her wrists together with her belt before attaching it to the headboard, and positioned a couple of pillows underneath her to support her back. Finally, he looped his scarf around her neck, kissing her softly, before he went to town on her body.

It was a side of Rayla that even he rarely saw; she liked to be in control, of herself and her surroundings – and when they were intimate, of him, too. So seeing her bound and at his mercy, mewling and whimpering pitifully, caught on his every whim, was a deeply pleasurable experience for Callum. He got off on the knowledge that she had submitted to him by choice, that she trusted him enough to be this vulnerable with him, and that she was deriving just as much pleasure from this as he was.

When Callum finally gave up on the foreplay and escalated the situation, Rayla wailed, back arching, chest heaving, biting her lip to try and stem the flood threatening to engulf her. He gripped her hips, kneeling between her legs, alternating which hand held her in place and which inflicted pleasure on her. He set a slow, heavy pace, intent on dragging this out as long as possible to heighten the sensations, within reason.

One of the first times they had experimented with orgasm control, Callum had over indulged and peaked Rayla’s pride. She had snapped at him in embarrassed frustration, and he had jumped, fumbled, and hurriedly brought her to climax as soon as he could. Afterward, she had grabbed him by the balls and pulled, knowing he was quite sensitive post-coitus, and promised that if he _ever_ made her feel defenceless or made her beg like that again, she would rip them off and feed them too him. Once they had both recovered and calmed down, they’d had a frank discussion and laid more concrete boundaries; thereafter, Callum was more cautious with their experimentations, mindful of upsetting or hurting her.

Right now, he had a pretty good idea where the line in the sand was drawn, but he still occasionally asked, to make doubly sure. Rayla had rolled her eyes after the third question, but smiled indulgently and replied to every subsequent inquiry with some snarky variation of ‘Yes, My Prince’.

Callum gripped her hips with both hands, and leaned back a bit so that he had a clear and fantastic view of her body while they made love, engraining it into his memory with the intent of drawing it later in his special sketch book.

Under her clothes, Rayla’s skin was almost alabaster in colour, an incredibly pale hue of the soft, purple cast to her complexion. The areola of her nipples were a very dark, almost plum colour. He smiled when he thought back to that awkward, fumbling stage of their physical relationship; the first time she had seen him without a shirt Rayla had expressed surprise at the colour of his nipples. Like most humans, they were a middling, browny sort of pink, and Rayla hadn’t been expecting it. He had blurted out, without thinking it through, “So what colour are _you_?” before realising what he had just done and flailing so hard to backtrack that Rayla had clapped a hand over his mouth and told him to sit down before he hurt himself.

Looking at her now, with her legs spread and her arms held above her head, undulating without success to find sweet friction, Callum thought she was the most beautiful person in the whole world. The deep red of his scarf stood out against her creamy skin, a reminder of the trust she placed in him. Very slowly, with great deliberation, Callum hefted her hips in his grip, and leaned down over her. He made sure their pubic bones rubbed together, giving her the pressure she desired, and gently took her chin in one hand, smiling lazily as she gazed up at him, blinking dazedly.

“Have I ever told you how utterly gorgeous you are?” he murmured, kissing her chin, dodging her attempts to catch his lips with her own.

“Oh _Callum_ ,” she whimpered. “Callum, _please_ ,”

“Please… _what_?” he asked, gripping her hips and thrusting hard and deep, taking his sweet time to pull back. Rayla cried out with abandon in response, and he kissed her lips, smiling when it took a moment for her mind to register what he was doing.

“I need you,” she breathed, her hips rocking incessantly against him as he pulled back just enough to alleviate the pressure against her body. She whined at the loss of contact, struggling against the leather wrapped around her wrists.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, stilling the movements of his hips completely so that she could give his words her full attention.

She blinked those beautiful violet eyes at him, biting her lip as her hips rolled involuntarily. “Yes,” she whispered, desperate. She closed her eyes and arched her back against the pillows supporting her. “Oh _Stars_ , _yes-_ ”

Callum leaned forward and kissed her forehead tenderly, and pressed his face against hers for a long moment so that they could look each other in the eye. He touched her bottom lip with the tip of his forefinger, just savouring this beautiful moment.

“If that’s what my lady desires,” he adjusted his position, and gently angled her body underneath him, rearranging the pillows, getting ready for the final stretch. He braced his weight on his free arm, and went for it.

Rayla may have had a penchant for hard and fast, or passionate and playful, but Callum had his own area of expertise. He could do soft and gentle (what she called ‘squishy’), or hard and slow. The latter was something he didn’t get to do often, because lovemaking was usually either give and take, or Rayla was the one in control. So he absolutely relished the odd occasion where he had free reign over her body and her pleasure. That she entrusted him this way, made the already pleasurable experience all the more emotionally intimate.

It took a good twenty minutes or so from the time he asked if she was ready to Rayla reaching her climax, but oh was the wait so worth it. Towards the end, he braced his weight on his elbows and brought his hands to her horns. There was a particular spot on each one, on the base right at the back, that if stimulated just right, heightened her arousal. It was something he used sparingly, because it could cause sensory overload if he wasn’t careful, and repetitive use over time diminished its effectiveness. The moment he touched the erogenous zone, Rayla bucked wildly underneath him with a deep groan; he chuckled, low and deliberate as he ran his tongue along the rim of her ear before taking the very tip between his teeth. He waited for the perfect moment, following the tempo of her quivering thighs closely, and when the moment arrived, he pressed harder against the base of her horns in time with his thrust in and down.

Rayla screamed, writhing and shaking with the rhythm of her body, gasping and sobbing with each wave of pleasure that crashed over her. Knowing she felt safe and satisfied in her orgasm made Callum’s climax all the more gratifying when he joined her in sweet release. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, crying out her name before pressing his lips to her ear and murmuring it over and over in between the pleasurable paroxysms.

After he was spent, he roused himself to fumble with the bindings around her wrists, then gently laced their fingers together and squeezed to make sure she was all right before he collapsed in a tacky heap on top of her.

They lay there for a while in a contented stupor, her fingers stroking his hair as he listened to her heartbeat slow and even out, her chest rising and falling underneath him. When she sighed, he lifted his head lazily and bumped his nose against hers, grinning like an idiot when she poked his face lovingly.

“By Garlath’s Great Blade, that felt _good_ …”

Callum chuckled and indulged in a slow, lingering kiss, smiling at her before tilting his face to kiss her nose quickly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He said teasingly, and eased himself up to carefully disengage from her body.

Rayla gripped his hands for a moment before letting him go. Once he climaxed, he couldn’t stay hard for long, which meant staying joined got uncomfortable quite quickly. While she _really_ enjoyed the sensation of being coupled together, she didn’t want to keep him in discomfort, so she rarely complained about it, even though he could usually see her disappointment.

Rayla lounged around in the bed while Callum cleaned up the evidences of their lovemaking, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck securely when he crawled back under the covers with her. She unravelled the scarf from her neck enough so that she could drape it around his too, and they grinned at each other tiredly before leaning in for a gentle, lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled against his lips.

Callum smoothed the hair off her face, and gazed searchingly into her eyes. “For what?” he murmured back.

Rayla flushed and gave him a rueful smile, glancing aside and fiddling with a lock of her hair. “For bein’ so possessive. I don’t… _mind_ people thinkin’ you’re good lookin’, or whatever, but…” she sighed and snuggled up against him, tucking herself under his chin and pressing her nose against his pulse, gripping him around the middle. “I draw the line at sexual harassment.”

Callum laughed softly and kissed the crown of her head as he stroked her hair. “I just wish she’d take ‘no, I’m happily in a relationship’ for an answer.”

“Be honest. Once she saw you for who you really are, she’d’ve run a mile. I’m the only idiot dumb enough to put up with your nonsense.”

Callum wrinkled his nose in a smile as he nuzzled into her hair. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.” They shared a chuckle, and she tilted her head so that they were looking in each other’s eyes again. Callum’s expression softened, and he stroked her face. “By the Light, you’re beautiful. Would I be terrible if I asked to make love again?”

Rayla gave him a tired and apologetic smile. “I…don’t know if I have another round in me after that. You’re free to try, but I’ll just be lyin’ here,” she flopped onto her back dramatically, limbs at odd angles. “Like a sack’a potatoes.” She giggled into her hands as Callum sat up, and looked first from her to his knees, and then his hands, face contorted in a parody of contemplative thought

“Okay, I am _never_ using that phrase again,” he said, moving to get up and fetch a drink.

From the smug look on her face, he was quite sure Rayla had engineered it that way, setting up a trap for him to blunder right into, exactly as he had just done. She batted her eyelashes over the cup he passed to her and pretended to look innocent. Once he’d had a drink himself, he flopped down amongst the covers with a sigh.

“No pleasing some people, is there?”

Rayla cuddled up against his side, snorting with laughter. “If ye say so.”

Callum closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the top of her head, smiling as she flexed her neck so that her horns rubbed against his jaw.

He didn’t say it, because it did not at all feel like the right moment for it, but he knew in his heart of hearts that Rayla was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The one he wanted to marry, to be a parent with. Even if they didn’t have to contend with the whispers, or objections from people opposed to Pentarchy-Xadia relations, there was still the matter of his being a Prince. That alone brought a whole raft of issues that would forever impact their relationship, with the amount of time his duties took up and the expectations placed upon him.

Rayla’s cheek slid against his neck, and he blinked in surprise. He was quite sure she had fallen fast asleep, and long before him, which was unusual. The tension had left her body entirely, her jaw was completely relaxed, and her breathing was deep and even.

Resisting the urge to stroke her hair in case he disturbed her, Callum contented himself with closing his eyes and drifting into sleep with her.

Now wasn’t the right time to bring these things up with Rayla. After the Summit, when the Truce was a real Alliance, and the matter of her Ghosting had been addressed – whatever the outcome of that may be – and she had had the chance to reconcile with her family, then Callum would turn his attention to these big things, and the big feelings attached to them.

XOXO

Winter struck Katolis like Garlath’s Left Fist.

The ambient temperature plummeted for several days, and the dark moon found Rayla sneaking into Callum’s rooms for warmth because the barracks were exceptionally cold that night. He yelped when she crawled into his bed and wrapped her arms around him.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she grouched. There was no moon in the sky, and she had been on patrol every damned daylit hour. She was tired, cold, and incredibly grumpy.

“You’re _freezing_!” Callum hissed, wriggling around in her embrace.

“Then gimme your body heat,” she griped, gripping him harder.

“You have _any_ idea how long it took to warm this bed up without Sun magic?” he shot back.

“Mmm…” Rayla snuggled up closer, pressing herself against his back. “You’ve done a fantastic job. Now shu’up and go t’sleep.”

She could feel him rolling his eyes; it was the ever so slight tilt of his head and shoulders that followed the usual trajectory his gaze would take. “Fucking hell, Rayla.” He sighed.

“Night night,” she said airily, pressing her cold cheek right against the back of his neck, and Callum squeaked again.

By the time morning came around, she was feeling guilty for springing on him like that last night, but she awoke to find he had rolled over in the night and snuggled her up in his arms. Rayla smiled and cuddled him closer still, kissing his nose when he mumbled something and yawned widely. It was quite amazing what she could get away with at the dark moon; instead of getting ratty with her for interrupting his sleep twice, Callum gave her the kind of long, slow, lingering kiss that made her heart melt. A nice long lie in with a cup of tea or coco would have been glorious on a cold and dreary day like this, but duty called them from the warm pocket of mutual affection beneath the blankets. That, and Ezran was hammering on Callum’s door first thing, bouncing with excitement.

“Guys, _guys_!” he shook Callum so hard his teeth had to be rattling around his skull. “Guys, _look_! It snowed last night!”

Callum looked thoroughly unimpressed that his attempt at a lie in had been ruined. Rayla gave him a tired smile, and flopped in a heap on the sofa while Callum made some tea, and tried to good naturedly curb his little brother’s enthusiasm. Ezran took the decision to suspend Council meetings for the day, and begged Callum to come play in the snow. Rayla watched the pair of them over the rim of her mug, still dressed in Callum’s pyjamas, smiling to herself.

They argued, and Callum started to flake pretty quickly; Ezran flashed those puppy dog eyes at his brother, and Callum gave in completely. He then promised that they would go outside after breakfast, although there was something calculating about his expression as they agreed to the terms of his surrender. Once Ez left, Callum locked the door and dragged a chair over to wedge it shut.

Rayla raised an eyebrow. “Bit extreme.” She commented as she sipped her tea. “You expectin’ him to send the army in here or somethin’?”

Callum’s smile pooled pleasantly in her belly as he slowly turned to look at her. His hair was growing long, and he looked incredibly appealing when it was all mussed up like that.

“The King has requested my undivided attention. And I just bought us twenty minutes. So If you want to have sex with me today, it’s now or never.”

Rayla made a show of looking shocked as she put her mug down and sprang to her feet. Callum met her halfway across the room and kissed her passionately before backing her up to the couch again. She laughed when her knees hit the arm rest, and they fell onto the cushions in a heap. It may have been quick, but it was pleasurable and very welcome, and settled comfortably at the back of her mind for the rest of the day.

It was a nuisance to have to share Callum’s attention with the Court most days, but she didn’t begrudge Ezran for needing some down time that didn’t involve his crown. Callum was often caught between a rock and a hard place where Ez was concerned: he had to be a friend and advisor, and a parent, as well as an older brother, all at once. While it was tempting to join in the snowball fight the pair of them had in the courtyard, Rayla refrained for the first couple of hours. They needed some time to goof around and just be brothers, which they rarely got to do anymore.

Then Jenny found her pacing restlessly around the battlements, and they chatted until Nate and Kora passed by. And then Brock was there with Bran, the Del Barian High Mage’s nephew, in deep conversation with Serena about the relative merits of Ocean related magic regarding the treatment of blood infections. Nia was bouncing just about perceptibly on her toes, wings fanning themselves in the frigid air (which drew lots of stares from both elves and humans) and grinned when Jenny asked her what she was up to. Turns out, Sky mages love a good storm of any description, and she was quite certain a snowstorm was on its way somewhere to the north – she couldn’t tell if it would pass them by or plough right over the capital, but it was close enough to get her energised.

In that annoying way life had, one thing led to another, and by the time the afternoon was rolling around, there was a large group of humans and elves in the main courtyard. Ezran _claimed_ it was in the interests of diplomacy that they all engage in some team building activities. He really just wanted an excuse to throw snowballs at Janai and Callum, and because Rayla liked being a wind-up merchant, she indulged the young King’s wishes.

The practical upshot was that she and Soren got into a furious battle while the rest of the group had a snow person competition. Ezran egged them on, and Callum’s magic lesson on the periphery got interrupted as he and the other Sky mages were accidentally pelted with stray snowballs, right in the middle of a tricky charm to create snowflakes.

Rayla was really worried at one point that she had overstepped a boundary when she managed to get Callum in the face with a particularly large snowball. Wide eyed, hands over her mouth, she crept forward, quailing under his expression. It was the ‘I’m thoroughly unimpressed with this’ look, borderline ‘I’m genuinely pissed off now’.

Wincing, she helped him to dust off his cloak, murmuring quietly, “I’m sorry.”

She got the look of long suffering, followed by a deep sigh and the words, “I’ve had worse.”

Ezran and Soren flew by, kicking up a blizzard in their wake, and pelted them with more snowballs. Callum once again took one, to the side of the head this time, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Soren ran behind him, yanked down his hood, and stuffed more snow down the back of his neck, cackling with laughter.

“Yup,” Callum said slowly, giving Rayla an ironic smile as Ezran slunk his way over, chuckling just a little nervously before he wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders. “I’ve had it _way_ worse.” His smile as he patted Ezran’s hand was fond and full of loving frustration.

Rayla tried to be more toned down and supportive – but Sod’s Law Io managed to get loose from the stables soon thereafter. As Janai was wrestling Amaya away from her admittedly very good snow elf, the Moonstrider careened into the neat row of snowy figures, and they all collapsed under his paws. A few people shrieked in alarm, and Rayla launched herself through the chaos to make a grab at his halter. She dug her feet in as Io whipped around to snap at her before throwing his head back to try and yank the cord out of her hands. Malra leapt out of the retreating crowd to lunge for him on the other side, and together they led him away from the commotion.

It was almost too bad Ariadne wasn’t around – Rayla would have asked her to fetch her service horse to calm Io down, but she had elected to stay inside where it was warm and dry, rather than traipse around in the cold and soggy snow on her lame leg. So instead, Malra soothed him as best she could with all the noise, and then Rayla helped to get him back to the stables, having to drag heavily on his halter to get him to move.

“Is he _always_ like this?” Rayla asked, trying to remain even keeled, but it came out as a snarl as they had to dig their heels in again when he tossed his head.

“He’s just cranky there’s no moon. He _always_ does this.” Malra grunted, likewise hanging off Io’s halter. “C’mon, ye waste of fur, _shift it_ ,”

Io sat down on his haunches and growled at them both reproachfully. Malra looked like she wasn’t sure whether to hug the Moonstrider or stab him. Her head snapped up as someone whistled across the thoroughfare they were trying to walk down, and Pebbles trundled into view, snorting plumes of steam into the air.

Rayla waved when she recognised the guy who had whistled – one of the more experienced junior stable hands, and one of the ones who had learnt quickly how to rig the doors to stay shut.

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, waving back at Rayla and patting Pebble’s rump as he drew level with them. “Ari said to let him loose if Io escaped. I hope that’s okay?”

Malra looked from the young man’s awkward expression to Io, who was chewing on Pebble’s ear. The horse just stood there placidly, like the giant horned fox with sharp teeth wasn’t gnawing on him.

“Thanks, Fynn,” Rayla said, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she walked by.

He laughed and clicked his tongue at Pebbles, who obligingly followed. And Io got off his haunches and paced after him without any more quibbling. Malra now looked like she just wanted to stab him.

“Ari’s right. This horse isn’t fazed by anything, is he?” Fynn said conversationally, smiling in their vague direction and not looking at the thing with teeth that was watching him closely.

Rayla couldn’t help but snort with laughter. Ariadne was short listed to be one of the medics that went to the Summit. There was also talk along the grapevine that Sol Regem would be there – it would be interesting to see how the horse fared up against an Archdragon.

Once Io was tucked up in his stall, Malra leaned against the door and sagged with fatigue. “I swear, I could kill him most days.” She said tiredly.

Rayla grinned despite herself. “Why did you even bring him if he’s that much trouble?” Clearly, she had hit a nerve – Malra clammed up and didn’t say anything at all until they had left the stables, and were well on their way along a quiet palisade.

“You remember Cabhan?” Malra asked eventually.

Rayla pulled a face. “The elf with the scimitar, crescent marks and a bad attitude?”

Malra scowled at the memory. “The one Runaan nearly killed. Yeah. So, he took over the stables back home,”

Rayla winced at the thought.

“Yeah. I didn’t wanna leave Io with him. He was the runt of the litter.” She shrugged helplessly. “Don’t ask me _why_ I took him in. I just did. I couldn’t bear to leave him behind for so long, knowin’ what Cabhan’s like.”

They rounded the corner back to the courtyard where everyone was still milling around, and Rayla resisted the urge to make some passing remark about knowing what it was like to want to take the lost and lonely cubs with you – but calling her human lover a puppy was _way_ too much information to share with another Moonshadow elf.

Rayla smiled warmly when Callum turned to her with a tired smile, arm outstretched in welcome, and she wrapped her own around his waist as he pulled her closer. He kissed her cheek and pressed his nose into her hair, and she saw Malra tactfully look aside.

“You okay?” Rayla asked quietly.

“They’re relentless.” Callum groaned.

Soren moved, and Rayla grabbed Callum’s cloak reflexively, pulling it up to shield his head from the two snowballs he hurled at them, cackling with laughter.

“Seriously?!” Kora bellowed at him over the noise, while Jenny made a show by her side of cracking her knuckles.

Rayla made to step in Soren’s direction menacingly, and pulled up short when Callum held an arm out to detain her. “No, no,” Callum reached for his belt, and pulled out a narrow cylinder of metal. “Allow _me_ ,” he turned towards Soren, throwing his arm first to the right and then back down towards the left, each movement causing the different sections of his staff to extend and click into place. She knew that face: the ‘I have zero fucks left to give’ face. She moved instinctively to cover Malra in case she got caught in the crossfire.

“Oh shit,” Rayla said under her breath as Callum advanced on Soren, who suddenly looked a lot less sure of himself.

“What?” Malra asked, and Rayla noticed to her chagrin that her automatic defensive move had been seen clear as moonlight by the other elf.

Rayla twisted the corner of her mouth to keep from giving anything away, and folded her arms as she watched Soren squirm. “You’re about to see a Master at work.”

Malra shot her a sideways look. She didn’t _say_ anything, but Rayla imagined she was thinking along the lines of ‘ _seriously_?’. By Moonshadow standards, Callum was a scrawny little twig of a specimen. But brute strength and agility weren’t the only virtues needed to make a good warrior; Callum’s greatest assets were his creativity and tenacity.

And Soren knew that.

Rayla smirked as Malra continued to look unconvinced. Callum lifted a hand, and Soren baulked; Malra raised an eyebrow, and frowned at the look of pure certainty on Rayla’s face. Soren lunged to the side, and Callum went for the jugular with an ice breath spell. He created a flat plane of ice that had Soren skittering for his balance, and then lunged himself with his staff. Soren only just managed to dodge by jumping over the weapon as it swept past, and managed to land without falling over on the glassy surface of the cobblestones.

“It’s _not a thing_!” Soren shouted at him, going to clout Callum around the side of the head once he had dodged away from the ice.

Callum grinned and used a wind spell to blow his cloak up and over his head, so the man flailed around blind for a few moments. All the soldiers who were within earshot and knew Soren well laughed at the predicament he was now in. By the time Soren had freed himself, and spun round, Callum was forty paces away, with a semblance left behind to distract him. Of course, it had no substance, so Soren fell right through it, and then hurled himself at Callum once he pinpointed the Prince’s location. Callum bent his knees, readjusting his grip on his staff, watching and waiting. At the last moment he summoned up more ice, encasing Soren’s legs up to the calf and freezing him in place. Soren flailed again with a yell of exasperation, taking a swipe at Callum, who ducked expertly and fell into a crouch, melting the ice with a deft flick of the wrist, and knocked his legs out from under him in one smooth and flowing movement. Soren landed on his backside, gave Callum a dazed look as he tried to draw breath, and then collapsed unceremoniously in a heap.

The other soldiers pointed and laughed even louder. Callum straightened up slowly, and while Rayla’s heart burst with pride, she noticed with concern the tremor that ran through his body, and the way a hand went to his chest, over his wound.

Mattrim threw his head back as he clapped Callum on the back. “How does the pay back for all those sparring lessons feel, my Prince?”

Callum laughed good naturedly and held a hand out to Soren, who smiled back ruefully and took it. Ezran bounced over, gushing with undiluted pride and commenting on Callum’s technique.

“ _What_?” Aibeck said flatly from behind Rayla. She and Malra both turned to look at him; his jaw was hanging open as he stared at Callum.

Rayla grinned at the pair of them. “I taught him that,” she nodded at Soren, who was complaining about the whole ‘sweep the leg thing’, while Callum twirled his weapon like a baton and told him to tell it to the magic staff. He looked exceedingly smug right now.

Amaya waved to get Rayla’s attention, and they both grinned at each other as the General signed, “So proud, you both.”

Rayla repeated the sign for ‘proud’ back at her emphatically. Then she remembered the number of eyes on her, and straightened up reflexively. Her very Katolian cloak and the military braid in her hair suddenly felt like beacons. By contrast, Malra wore a Xadian cloak, and Aibeck was wrapped up in a thick Moonshadow coat, not unlike the kind Runaan wore in the winter, and they both wore rings on their horns.

Rayla found an excuse to leave the non-existent conversation, and went over to Callum, feeling quite exposed and wanting to be close to her greatest source of comfort. Soren was still bickering with the heckling soldiers, and Callum was laughing as Nia gently rubbed and prodded his right hand, looking intent.

“I am _jealous_ of those extra digits.” She was saying to Serena. “Look how much extra control it gives you on the aspiro spells!”

“You’re asking the wrong mage.” Serena said with amusement, lifting her head to acknowledge Rayla’s arrival.

Before she could reach Callum’s side, Bran slid out of the crowd and patted Callum’s shoulder. “So, do you offer lessons? I’m suddenly quite keen to learn magic.”

“Are you a mage yourself?” Serena asked lightly, appraising the young man.

Bran smiled a little uneasily, and his fingers went for the black stone, inscribed with a rune that always hung around his neck, out of nervous habit. “No. I mean, I trained under my Uncle for a bit, but I was always pretty useless at magic. But _this_ ,” he inclined his head in Callum’s direction. “Is something else entirely.”

Callum’s cheeks were flushed from the exertion of moving so swiftly, and from all the praise everyone was heaping on him. “I dunno about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away from everyone. Then his gaze came back, and settled on Rayla, and his smile became inextricably tender.

“You sell yourself short,” Serena said. Then, with increasing amusement because Nia was still poking at the bones in Callum’s hand, added, “Are you intending to divest the Prince of his littlest fingers?”

Nia let go with a laugh and ruffled Callum’s hair. “No. I just need to figure out how to replicate the movement with my own hand,” she looked down at the appendage, and Rayla could practically see the gears turning in her head as she flexed her fingers experimentally.

Rayla was already moving towards Callum when she saw the twinge on his face, so that by the time he had clapped a hand over his chest with a soft gasp she was by his side.

“Remember what we talked about with not over doin’ it?” she asked sweetly, and when he turned to look at her, she flicked his nose with a scowl.

“Point taken,” he said grumpily, and then his legs threatened to buckle.

Bran reached for his other arm uncertainly, and then took a big step back when Nia stepped forward and put a hand on Callum’s brow. “Find Brock,” she said in a low voice, and Serena melted into the crowd. “Come sit down.”

They got him to a stack of crates on the edge of all the activity, and Ezran broke off his conversation with Janai to follow, looking worried.

“He’s fine,” Rayla told Ez, running her fingers through Callum’s hair and rolling his head around on his shoulders. “He just didn’t listen to his Healer’s advice.” She leaned over him and pushed his head down. “ _Again_.”

Nia hummed, deep in thought, and gently pressed her fingertips to Callum’s chest. “You feeling hot?” she asked as she touched his brow again.

“A bit?” he said uncertainly.

Brock arrived with a dramatic flair of his cloak, his expression perfectly neutral. “Go easy,” Nia said softly, moving over to let the more experienced Healer have a look.

Rayla’s heart fluttered with mounting alarm as Brock’s brow began to crease with a frown of confusion. What worried her was the fact that Callum hadn’t really done all that much besides run and jump around quickly; she knew the extent of his magical abilities, had seen him at the height of his powers – sweeping the leg with some magical help was hardly a star in the sky compared to what Callum was capable of. And he hadn’t touched Sun magic at all to do it.

Callum kept his head down and didn’t say anything while he was checked over. Brock hummed as well, looking more concerned than before. “You have a slight fever. Have you been _near_ any Sun magic?”

Callum blinked up at him, eyes wide. “Err…well I stood under the midday sun, if that counts?”

Rayla smacked a hand to her face. Trust him to take it so _literally_. She gave Ezran a tired smile when he laughed softly, and put his hands on Callum’s shoulders; his smile deepened when his brother placed his own hand over his and squeezed.

“No.” Brock was developing a brooding expression. “I think, to be on the safe side, that should be enough excitement for one day.” He gave Rayla a meaningful look. “All the usual rules and medicines apply. Please keep him in check,”

Rayla gripped Callum’s arm like a vice. “You heard the Healer. _Shift_ ,”

Before they left, Ezran gave them both a hug and made them promise to come dine with him that evening, tantalising that Amaya and Janai would be there, too.

“You sure you don’t want me around for anything?” Callum asked, surreptitiously watching a group of diplomats who had come to watch the commotion for themselves, and were looking pointedly at the young King.

“I’m sure. I’ve got Corvus, and we can get Opeli if we need her.” He beamed, and then said more gently, touching his arm, “You should go rest up. I’ll be okay.” He insisted.

Rayla stepped aside to give them some space as they embraced.

“Thanks for having a snowball fight with me,” Ezran added with that great big smile of his, and Callum melted.

“Any time,” Callum reached up to ruffle his hair, knocking away the last bits of snow.

Once they were back inside, Rayla kicked Callum into his rooms and quietly locked the door while he was loudly complaining about her tyrannical ways. She rolled her eyes and made tea and barked at him to sit down before she _made_ him sit. He did so, with a glower and folded arms, until she handed him a steaming mug, and they curled up together in companionable silence.

It only lasted long enough for Callum to finish most of his mug and then lean back to stretch languorously. Rayla couldn’t keep her hands to herself anymore; she reached out and gripped his knee before moving to hold his thigh. Still outstretched, Callum yawned lazily and asked, “Can I _help_ you?”

“Yeah,” she set her cup down carelessly and sprang so that she landed astride his hips. “I’ve got an itch. I _really_ need help scratchin’ it.”

“Do you, indeed,” he pretended to be indolent, but his hands crept up her sides, tracing delicate patterns. “And how is this _taking it easy_?”

Rayla bit his bottom lip relishing the sound he made in response. “It is if I’m on top.” Callum exhaled heavily, trying to sound careless and indifferent, but his hands and mouth told her otherwise. “Hey,” she murmured, taking his wrists and pinning him to the back of the couch. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’. Maybe I _do_ have a type.”

Callum tilted his head, lips parted, eyes half closed. “And what would that be?”

Rayla grinned, grinding her hips against his as she arched her back. “Loud Mages.”

She smiled with satisfaction as he leaned back, eyes closed and neck exposed, groaning, “Oh Stars… _take me_ ,”

Rayla gave his neck a bruising kiss, and let go of his hands to run her fingers through his hair, enjoying the length, while his hands went to her hips. “With _pleasure,_ my Prince,” she breathed. “I didn’t think I’d get another go at you today. I’m gonna savour this…”

XOXO

Dinner that night was a quiet family affair; after they ate, they went back to Callum’s rooms to sit and drink some more wine, and just generally hang out. Janai taught Ezran a card game she had already introduced Callum to, and they held a mini tournament with Amaya refereeing. Then Ezran got a bit cocky and big for his boots, and Rayla wrestled him into submission – or she tried to, because Ez was quite slippery and quick if you weren’t paying close attention.

Callum perched himself on the arm of the sofa with his sketch book, doing quick little studies of everyone as the conversation ebbed and flowed, intending to expand on them later. He smiled at his aunt, who gave him a knowing smile of her own over her goblet, before turning to look at Janai, who was watching with a raised eyebrow as Ezran pounced ineffectually on Rayla. She gave Callum her own look of amusement as Ezran sat on her back, pulling on her leg with a grunt of effort. She kicked him away and easily dislodged him, then sprang and crashed into his lopsided embrace with a bark of laughter. Bait watched from Callum’s side with a neutrally grumpy expression, harrumphing every so often when Ezran shrieked with laughter.

Janai nudged Amaya’s arm and gestured at the youngsters messing around in front of the hearth commenting via signs that she remembered playing similar games with her brother and sister at that age. Amaya rolled her eyes and made some wry remark along the lines of: “Oh, Harrow’s boys…”

Callum looked back to his drawings with a sad smile. He glanced up again when Ezran burst out laughing; Rayla was lying on her back, with Ezran balanced perfectly on one of her feet, leg outstretched while he flung his arms around in a flapping motion – not unlike the way he used to hold Zym when he was practising flying. They were grinning at each other like the idiots they were, and the warmth of Callum’s affections eclipsed the ache in his wound for a while. He sometimes wondered what his parents would have made of Rayla – he liked to think they would have at least accepted his choices given enough time, or at best to have outright adored her the way Ezran did.

Callum glanced at his aunt, who had settled very comfortably with her cheek pressed against Janai’s shoulder. As he watched, the elf tilted her head so that her own cheek was pressed against the crown of Amaya’s head, earning her a kiss to her collar bone in response, as well as a loving squeeze. Callum tactfully turned away to focus on Bait; he knew he didn’t like being scrutinised when he was affectionate to Rayla. He continued to make tiny adjustments to the sketch of Rayla and Ezran mucking around on the hearth rug, giving Bait the occasional pat on the head.

“Hey,” Janai said out loud after a while to get Callum’s attention, being the one closest to him. “Zap Hand,”

Callum grinned at his nickname, and she jerked her head at Amaya, indicating who had been after his attention. “Yes, my Right Honourable General. How might I be of service?”

“Borrow Rayla?” she asked with a wry smile.

Callum gave her one of his own and gestured with, “Don’t own Quicksilver.”

Amaya threw her boot at Rayla by way of a greeting, and she scowled with a heavy sigh, still holding Ezran aloft (with the other foot now). “What the _fuck_ do you want from me?!”

Unrepentant and undeterred, Amaya held a brief conversation about the army’s plans over the festive season, and Rayla scowled and tried not to look _too_ petulant about it. Ezran occasionally translated when Rayla didn’t immediately get something, but she did pretty well on her own without his help. Amaya had commented to Callum just how good Rayla was these days at signing; she understood all the shorthand and slang that Gren usually edited out of polite conversation. Amaya was planning to ask her to be her back up interpreter during the Summit, because she spoke the major Elven languages, not all of which Gren could easily translate into.

At the end of the evening, Rayla hung back as the others left, looking preoccupied and a bit uncomfortable. Callum waited patiently, and eventually she said, “I wanted to write to m’parents and Ethari.”

“Okay,” he said simply.

Rayla gave him a tired smile. “Mind if I do that here with you?”

“Of course not,” he kissed her cheek, and held her close in his arms when she went to hug him.

They settled on the couch together, Rayla with a few sheets of paper and a quill, Callum with his sketches. They worked in comfortable silence, attending to their own matters and lending each other their unspoken support. Callum toyed around with some oil pastels at the back of his sketchbook, frowning as he tried to get the palette for Janai _just_ right. Rayla umm’ed and ahh’ed to herself over and over, throwing the occasional piece of scrunched up paper into the fire. Eventually she threw her hands up in the air and just wrote in one go without over thinking or editing.

Callum was so thoroughly absorbed in what he was doing, he only looked up when Rayla leaned a hand into his vision. She took an orange pastel and dragged a thin line over where he had been experimenting with the dark colours for Janai’s hair, and rubbed her thumb to mix it together. He beamed at the combination, and blended the colours a bit more with his own fingers.

“Perfect,” he concluded with satisfaction before making a note of which pastels that had been used, and circling the combination he wanted before he set his book aside. Rayla was holding two loosely rolled up scrolls of paper. “You okay?”

Rayla weighed her letters with a sigh. “Yeah. I’d better be, cause I’m _not_ doin’ that again.”

Callum folded his hands behind his head and leaned back, thinking. He smiled when she poked his nose in a question, and leaned into her hand. “Want to use my seal?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That even allowed? What if Opeli catches me usin’ it? I’ll be flayed alive.”

Callum chuckled, shaking his head. “They’ll get there a lot faster. I’m sending a couple of letters myself, and it’s not like she’ll notice if I take it to the Crow Lord myself.”

Rayla rolled her eyes dramatically, and gave him a sardonic smile as she handed the letters over. Callum bound and sealed them with red ribbon and blue wax – his chosen official colour – and stamped it with the Council’s seal, a briar rose in full bloom. He took them both, along with the letters to Verdeshire he needed to send tomorrow, and placed them all on the drinks table in front of the sofa.

Slowly, Rayla got to her feet and stretched lazily. Then she fixed Callum with a look.

“Can I stay the night?”

“Of course you can.”

“Good. I can’t be arsed to go back to the barracks in this cold.”

Callum made a show of looking hurt and lamenting out loud, “You only love me for my big warm bed.”

“Drama Prince,” Rayla scoffed, marching into the bedroom.

Callum followed, laughing softly to himself. They got ready for bed and tucked themselves in under the covers. It was a bit cold at first, because Callum hadn’t got round to prepping it, but the space soon warmed up as they snuggled up against each other. Just as they were settling in, Callum felt a jolt run up his spine and disperse at the base of his skull. He exclaimed out loud in shock, and Rayla was instantly alert.

“What is it?” she asked urgently as Callum flopped onto his back.

He held up a hand to detain her, and closed his eyes. The atmosphere was shifting – he could feel that space within him, that connected to the Sky, thrumming with energy. It pulsed and flowed to varying degrees, but never ebbed.

“There’s going to be a storm.” He murmured. He was sure of it.

“Really?” Rayla asked, not entirely convinced as she settled down, leaning on her elbow as she looked at him.

Callum frowned, trying to pin down the fluid motion of the Sky. “Maybe not tomorrow…but soon.”

Rayla’s silence was a bit unnerving, so he cracked an eye open to look at the smug expression on her face. “I do believe I owe you. Somethin’ about…oh, _what_ was it now? I hafta come to your bed no matter what I’m doin’ so you can have your wicked way with me?”

It took a moment for Callum to remember what she was talking about, and then he rolled onto his side so he could caress her face. “Ah yes. I do believe so. Three passionate liaisons in a week, _two_ on the same day! What _will_ we do with ourselves?”

Rayla’s eyes flashed, and she pressed her cheek into her pillow, looking all demure and innocent. It was the biggest lie of the century and they both knew it.

“Wanna make that four?”

Callum batted his eyelashes at her. “I’m on top.” She bowed her head in acquiescence, and then snarled when he added, “And lots of foreplay.”

“For _fuck sake_ , Callum!” she rolled away from him in a huff, arms folded and glaring at the ceiling.

He chuckled and slowly slid a hand across her stomach under the covers, giving her ample time and space to stop him if she wanted to. Despite her grouching, she shifted her legs farther apart, and he obligingly dipped his hand under her clothes and started caressing her intimately. She arched her back, eyes closed, lips parted. This was another image he was going to draw into his special sketchbook later.

“Callum…” she breathed, and then murmured again as a whimper when he pressed harder. She grabbed at his arm and pulled him closer, and he was more than happy to comply. “I love you,” she said simply, leaning up to kiss him deeply and tenderly, and Callum smiled.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked softly, kissing her ear.

“I just want _you_. I don’t care. Have at it. Just fuck me.”

Callum grinned and nipped her ear as he pressed his hips against hers very suggestively. “Squishy it is,” he laughed at her deep groan of exasperation, and beamed when she gave him an indulgent smile.

“I got no one to blame but m’self, really.” She said carelessly as she went for the hem of his pyjamas.

XOXO

Runaan was sleeping fitfully, constantly rolling over and grimacing every time his left arm was jostled by something. In the end, he gave up trying to stay asleep, and drifted back to consciousness.

Dark moons were uncomfortable at the best of times, and though it had come and gone for this month, its effects still lingered.

With a sigh, he rolled over, reaching for his husband, only to find Ethari’s side of the bed empty. Runaan was instantly alert; he hadn’t felt the shift of weight on the mattress, and the sheets were cold so Ethari must have been gone a while. Runaan was out of bed and quickly through the door in what to any casual observer would have been a quick and flowing motion – but Runaan could feel the way his right ankle protested under his own weight, and his left arm throbbed incessantly. The pain in his skull was even worse; his broken horn had not been properly tended to when the injuries had been sustained, and he was likely to suffer repercussions for the rest of his life. The quick and practised motion of jumping to attention jolted his head so that his mind swam with brain fog, and his sinuses throbbed in response.

Blinking through the haze of pain, Runaan slid into the corridor, and followed the dim light to the living room. Ethari was sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees and his chin pressed against his steepled fingers, watching the bowl of water on the drinks table. Runaan paused before he spoke, noticing that his heartbloom flower was floating on the surface of the water, the jewel pulsing in time to the beat of his heart. Taking care to announce his presence by scuffing his heel against the rug, Runaan approached carefully, almost afraid to know what his husband was thinking.

Ethari said nothing, but when Runaan put a hand on his shoulder, he reached up and squeezed hard, momentarily forgetting it was his bad arm. Runaan said nothing – the physical pain was much easier to bare than the ache in his chest caused by Ethari’s distress.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He said eventually, in a small voice. “And even though I knew, could _see_ you were there…” he sighed heavily, and passed his free hand over his eyes. “I can’t always make m’self believe it.”

Runaan moved to sit beside him, and wrapped his husband up in his arms, quiet and tacit, and as always thoroughly useless with these things. Ethari gripped him hard, and then remembered to be mindful, so he tucked his chin over Runaan’s other shoulder, and relaxed his grip on his left arm.

After a long moment, Ethari pulled away, trying to hide the fact that his eyes were full of unshed tears, and Runaan gave him a moment to collect himself. “What brought this on?” he asked, very gently.

Those first few nights and weeks had been difficult. It wasn’t easy, but they were slowly piecing together a new version of normal for themselves. They were both dealing with their trauma, in their own ways; usually it was Runaan who wasn’t coping so well, but the last few days Ethari had been the one needing more support.

With a useless little gesture, Ethari sighed heavily, looking down at their entwined hands on his lap.

“I miss Rayla.” He said simply.

Runaan contemplated him for a long moment, then leaned in to kiss his cheek before he held Ethari in a tight embrace once again.

This house just wasn’t the same without her. After everything he had been through, it was admittedly lower down the list of priorities for Runaan, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t sometimes expect her to come hurtling around a corner, or to try and drop on him from some shadowy nook in a vain attempt to get one over him. He missed her bright laughter and her sardonic smile, the constant stream of questions and challenges, indulging her when she went out of her way in a subtle and yet over the top way to show her affection for him. Ethari just got a hug and a verbal affirmation of her affections; Runaan had to get a convoluted declaration, whilst being reminded a thousand times about how she was being so very subtle and low key about it. His yearly birthday picnic was a prime example of this – she made a big song and dance about skirting around the issue, with that grin of hers.

Rayla was a wild bundle of energy that couldn’t be tamed, and he missed her as much as Ethari.

He just couldn’t articulate, even to himself, how he felt about her situation right now. She was far away from them, in a human Kingdom, and he had last seen her on the arm of a human Prince – the eldest son of Runaan’s last Mark. It was a messy, complicated affair that Runaan didn’t have the energy most days to even think about trying to unpick.

“I know.” He said softly to Ethari, stroking his hair.

Ethari heaved a sigh and wiped the tears from his eyes before he straightened up. Runaan was a bit concerned; he hadn’t slept well for maybe two or three nights now, and his eyes were starting to look bruised from the lack of proper rest. He took a deep breath, squeezing Runaan’s fingers, before he spoke again.

“I had a letter from her, the other day.”

“She wrote?” Runaan asked, surprised. The pieces of context were slowly fitting themselves into place.

“Yes.” Ethari closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m…struggling to cope with it. I worry about her so much,”

Runaan contemplated what he could do to help, and gently put a finger under Ethari’s chin, bringing his gaze to his. “You need sleep.”

Ethari gave him that loving, beleaguered look. “I know.”

“Would some tea help?”

He was intensely grateful to see Ethari really smile at him. “Probably. Let me,” he added, putting a hand on Runaan’s shoulder. “Save your arm. I’ll do it.”

While Ethari was in the kitchen, Runaan walked down the corridor under the pretext of going back to their bedroom, but he kept going until he came to Rayla’s door. He stood there for a long moment, thinking about how he had seen Ethari leaving it three days ago, just as his sleepless nights had begun. Very gently, almost afraid to enter, Runaan pushed the door open and slipped inside, taking care not to shut it so that Ethari could easily see where he had gone.

It was almost exactly as he remembered it. Almost, because after they had left on their ill-fated mission, Ethari had done for Rayla what he had always done for Runaan, as he waited patiently for their return. He had tidied up, made the bed, and put away all the things Rayla usually left scattered across the desk and other surfaces.

The books on the shelves were all straight and ordered neatly; Paws, her imaginatively named stuffed Shadowpaw was sitting forlornly on the topmost shelf next to a box full of other old toys. When she was seven, Runaan had told her big girls played with grown up toys, like swords, so she had put Paws up there, because she wanted to be a big girl. The bed was neatly made, instead of the messy nest of blankets she liked to sleep in. The covers were winter thick, like Ethari wanted to make sure absolutely everything would be in order, should she turn up on their doorstep without any notice.

Runaan walked into the middle of the room, and sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he lifted his gaze from the dent in the floorboards up to the small hole in the wall above the chest of drawers.

There used to be a bracket up there, on which had hung a banner for the Dragonguard. Rayla had always been fiercely proud of her parents, and Runaan had done all he could to foster and nurture that pride, and the drive to excel in her own training. When they had received the news about the Guard, Rayla had shut herself in her room for several days, refusing to speak to anyone, and that first night they had heard an almighty crashing coming from inside. Very much concerned for her well-being, Runaan had insisted on entering despite the fact that she was screaming at them to leave her alone. When he had finally managed to get inside, he had found Rayla sitting on the floor by her bed, weeping into her arms that had been wrapped around her legs; Ethari just held her because he didn’t know what else to do. The noise had been caused by the bracket being wrenched clean off the wall, landing heavily on the floor and creating a sizable divot. Runaan had simply gathered up the shredded remains of the banner and thrown them in the fire, so she didn’t have to have any reminders left lying around for her to see.

He had been stunned that the Dragon King was dead, by the hand of a human. And then the news spread that the entire Dragonguard had appeared to have fled. By all appearances at the time, Lain and Tiadrin had abandoned their posts – everything Runaan thought he knew about them, everything he’d ever told Rayla about them, had been wrong.

That memory hurt far more than he would ever admit to.

With another sigh, Runaan turned to his right, to the neatly ordered desk that had clearly been tidied up by Ethari over and over again in the years Rayla had been absent. Her schoolwork had been tucked into a neat pile, and judging by the patches of dust on the surface, had been shuffled around a few times. The pencil pots were all arranged neatly – Rayla used to just have everything scattered all over the place. It used to drive Runaan to distraction, especially when she did it in the workshop or the study, or in the training hut. Her room was the one place he didn’t nag her for not keeping completely tidy, because, as Ethari had had to remind him numerous times over the years, Rayla’s room was _her_ space. So the rule had been that her room didn’t have to be tidy, but it had to be kept _clean_.

At the very centre of the desk was a sheaf of paper, with a red ribbon and a wax seal embossed with a briar rose. Runaan sat down in the chair, and picked up the letter.

_Dear Ethari_

_Sorry it took so long to reply, or to write at all. It’s been really busy here, Amaya’s been working my fingers to the bone. The Xadian delegates arrived a few weeks ago, its going well, I suppose. It was a shock to see Malra and Aibeck again. And Hem. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that._

_We had the first snowfall of the season the other day – Ez won’t shut up about the Banther Lodge now. I’ve been there a few times before, but this will be the first holiday I’ve spent there. I’ve been promised hot cocoa, questionable stews (Callum says Ezran likes putting jelly tarts in it? I’m not sure if I believe him or not), sledding, and building snow people (see, I can be diplomatic and politically correct! Eat your heart out!)_

_Humans are crazy. In a nice way, but still crazy. Some days I think I’m going to throttle Callum – just straight up strangle him to make my life easier. It makes me wonder if Runaan used to feel that way about me. Callum’s really struggling on and off with his wound, I’m quite worried about him at times. I can’t stop him from practising primal magic, and I’m not sure that I would want to anyway, but I get so worried sometimes. Brock thinks there’s something in the spell that injured him that feeds off of magic, so he’s been banned from Sun magic until further notice – luckily the base components in that Dark magic spell weren’t related to the Sky. Callum would never stop whining if that were the case, and then I really would have to kill him._

_I really miss you too. I get that the Silvergrove did what it thought was right. That doesn’t stop it from hurting. And sometimes I feel guilty complaining about it, when I did the same thing to my parents. I bet you’d say the same thing Callum keeps telling me – not my fault, how was I to know, blah blah blah. But it still hurts, all the same._

_Is it terrible the thing I miss most about the Silvergrove is moonberry surprise? Please send some via shadowhawk, screw Runaan. Katolis needs moonberry surprise. Call it a cultural exchange, I’ll even get Ezran to commission some special jelly tarts for you. Even if you have to sneak it past Tall, Dark and Brooding._

_The second thing I miss most is Ethari hugs._

_I’ve made lots of friends over the last four and a bit years, and I have Callum, but nothing has ever come close to comparing with Ethari hugs._

_I’m terrified of the spring, but I’ll be so glad to see you again. I’m so sorry for leaving Lux Aurea without saying goodbye. It just all got too much. I hope you can understand, even if that’s the lamest and worst excuse ever._

_The last few years haven’t been easy on you either. It’s so unfair. Sometimes I wish there was something I could do for you, but I wouldn’t know to even start. At least you have Runaan to nag you about your health now. I miss you both so much, but I don’t miss that. _

_Until the spring then, I guess. I’ll try to write before then, but Amaya might have me running around doing her bidding until the equinox. And there’s the Summit itself to prepare for – I promised Callum and Ez I would help out, and you wouldn’t BELIEVE the paperwork these things take to put together. _

_I love you and miss you_

_Rayla_

_PS tell Runaan to drink his own damn iron tonic_

_PPS the staff is working perfectly and Callum sends his thanks and love_

Runaan was sure he knew why Ethari was so off kilter. Reading her familiar, scrappy handwriting, he could hear her voice, guess at the inflection she would have used if she had been reading this out loud to them. So bright, so vivid…full of life and energy and potential. That she was hurting and so far away from them was the source of Ethari’s distress.

The numerous mentions of Callum made Runaan’s heart twinge painfully. So much had changed while he wasn’t looking…

He heard Ethari before he reached the door, and decided not to try and pretend he hadn’t read the letter. Ethari murmured his name, and he carefully stood up, only then putting the letter down, and turning to meet his husband with what he hoped was a pensive expression. Of course, Ethari saw through the mask to the heart of his pain, and kissed him tenderly.

“I didn’t say anythin’ at first, because…well,” he struggled for the right words, and closed his eyes to lean into Runaan’s hand as he lifted it to cup his face. “I’m not sure how I feel. Only that I’m sick to my stomach with worry for her.”

“Yes.” Runaan said, trying to keep his tone mild and inoffensive. Ethari was used to his barbed tongue, but it didn’t feel right to be acerbic under the circumstances, even unintentionally. “There is more than enough cause for the Council to have overturned the decision without the need for a formal Hearing.”

Ethari closed his eyes and gripped Runaan’s hand, taking a deep, ragged breath.

“You need rest,” Runaan said gently, stroking his face. “You can’t help anyone if you don’t look after yourself.”

Ethari smiled despite the tears gathering in his eyes, and said, “You are such a hypocrite, Runaan.”

They shared a chuckle, and Runaan gently led him back to their bedroom, closing the door to Rayla’s room behind them. They drank the tea Ethari had made, and then got back into bed. It was warm inside the house, but the winter chill still pervaded the air, so it was with some relief that Runaan curled up under the covers, sharing the warm space with his lover. They gazed at each other for a long moment, before leaning in for a gentle kiss, both seeking and providing comfort.

Runaan tucked himself under Ethari’s chin, lacing their fingers together and resting them on Ethari’s stomach. Then, Ethari lifted his free hand to his hair, and after gently stroking the long locks, he tentatively pressed against the sensitive skin around the base of his broken horn, massaging away the pounding headache that threatened to keep him from sleeping. Runaan closed his eyes and relaxed into the contact, grateful that he could be with his husband again, and grateful for Ethari’s deep empathy and never-ending patience. Runaan fell asleep under his gentle touch, the last thing he was aware of being his husband’s lips pressing gently against his brow.

XOXO

A week after the letters had been sent, Rayla awoke one night with a jolt, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She gasped, and stared up at the high ceiling above her. Callum mumbled something indistinct beside her, and she rolled onto her side, away from him, shaking hard.

Callum roused himself, suddenly alert, and she curved in on herself, unable to keep from weeping. She heard her name, a murmured question, followed by a more urgent plea as she hid her face in her arms. Callum reached for her, and she didn’t resist when he wrapped her up in his embrace, kissing her hair and stroking her arms.

“Rayla,” he murmured gently, his cheek rubbing against her horns, and she flexed her neck into his touch. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, trying not to cry.

It had been pretty awful, as dreams went. First she was in the Silvergrove, Ghosted and banished and kind of expecting it. Then she had gone to find Ethari, and when she opened the front door to what had been her home, she stepped into Callum’s rooms. There, she saw all of her human friends, all the soldiers and diplomats, and everyone in between – and there was no conversation to overhear or expressions to see. She had been Ghosted here, too. And she had bolted when she ran to Callum, clutching and shaking his arm, only to find that she couldn’t see his dear face either. Running down the corridor, full blown panicking, she had run into her parents outside the throne room, and she couldn’t see their faces, either. It was at this point that she had woken up with a horrible start.

She didn’t know how to convey to Callum how much that scared her. She gripped his arms and leaned back against his chest, glad for the warm contact. They had made love that evening, when the promised snowstorm had finally arrived, and she still had rose petals stuck in her hair because he’d gone the unbelievably squishy route. So she focused on that and the feeling of his skin against hers, the soft timbre of his voice in her ear.

When she had finally calmed down, she haltingly told him about the dream, and gladly rolled over to let him smother her in his arms. She desperately needed the reassurance right now – it was harder for her demons to tell her that he didn’t care, or that she wasn’t important enough, when he had her wrapped up in his arms, fingers in her hair and his lips pressed to her brow.

It was hard to know what hurt most, the thought of her parents Ghosting her, or Callum.

But _she_ had Ghosted her parents. Hadn’t even given it a second thought until Callum had given her undeniable proof that they hadn’t run from their duty.

A question she was afraid of burned in her chest, and she knew Callum was aware of her mounting distress again, but he didn’t push the issue. He just held her and stroked her hair and let her know she was real and solid and _there_ to him.

Eventually, and with great effort, she asked, in an all too small voice, “What if they hate me?”

Callum took a while, weighing each word with care before he strung them into sentences. “I’m sure they don’t. And if they do, it’s their loss.”

Rayla let out a sigh. But what _if_?

“Rayla,” he murmured, very gently tilting her chin so that they were looking each other in the eye. “What happened isn’t fair, to _anyone_ involved. Least of all you. I know you’re hurting, and it’s okay to feel your emotions, but-” his face looked immeasurably sad. “Just… _please_ know that I love you. And I’d never do that to you.”

Rayla closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck. “You would if I did somethin’ awful.” She said, trying to sound matter of fact and not managing it.

Callum held his breath for a moment, and her heart clenched anxiously.

“I could slap you, some days.” He said bluntly. He met her astonished gaze with a wry look of his own. “You’d never do anything awful. You’re too busy trying to look after everyone and everything around you. And if it _looked_ like you’d done something really terrible, it’d either be because you were choosing the lesser of two evils, or because I was missing some vital piece of context, or because it really was for the greater good.” His smile was tired and heart-warming as he threaded his fingers together with hers. “I really wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

Rayla gave him a watery smile, sniffling as she wiped her tears away. “You are unbelievably biased, Callum.”

“Or maybe I fell in love with you because you really are just that wonderful and righteous.”

Rayla closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into his arms. “Thank you.” She breathed.

It took a long time for her to fall asleep again. Callum, bless his heart, was out like a light quite quickly, but he was responsive to her touch even in sleep, cuddling her closer and nuzzling into her hair every time she shifted in his arms. Rayla slid into a fitful sleep, but she had no more nightmares, and as she broke out of a disturbing dream in the small hours of the morning, she found Callum’s fingers gently stroking her hair and face. Warm, solid, and present; it made her feel safe despite the tangle of nerves in the pit of her stomach.


	8. Solidarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had the ideas for this story and been planning it for a long time now, but didn’t actually start writing it down until shortly before my area went into lockdown because of the Covid pandemic. I’m aware this is a sensitive issue and not to be taken lightly so I just want to warn anyone reading this chapter: there is reference to illness and mild social isolation. I couldn’t think of a way to contrive the situation I wanted at this point in the plot without it, but I have tried to be mindful of the real-world situation while writing it. I wanted to give you the heads up on the content of this chapter; I’ve been incredibly lucky throughout this pandemic but I know a lot of people have really struggled with the situation, and while I’ve restructured the plot, I understand it could still be distressing to some people.

Tiadrin poked at the soup in her bowl, not really having any appetite but knowing she should eat something before her shift. It was an Earthblood recipe; the previous Captain of the Dragonguard had come out of retirement until a new round of guards could be selected and tested. He had been in charge when she first joined; gruff and taciturn, and a bit of a bastard at times, but an admittedly brilliant cook.

It tasted like ash as far as Tiadrin was concerned, though that may have been because her mind was on other things. Like Lain and his conspicuous absence. He was a foody at heart, and never missed Captain Gorok’s turn at kitchen duties if he could help it.

As she continued to poke at her food, ignoring said Captain’s quick and piercing gaze from across the long table, Tiadrin heard footsteps in the corridor, but was too distracted to pay much attention until Lain was by her side, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Where’ve _you_ been?” she asked, lifting her bowl to show him what he had been missing.

Lain’s expression was complicated, like the pressure of all the emotions on the inside were threatening to burst forth. He didn’t say anything, just held up a scroll of paper, tied with a red ribbon. The seal was broken, but even from here she could see the rose motif. It was from Katolis. Her eyes went wide and she almost leapt off the bench in her agitation.

“Is that-?” she asked, unable to finish the sentence.

Lain nodded and handed her the letter. Tiadrin left the kitchen without a backwards glance, hurrying to find somewhere quiet and remote. She went to the skylight the dragons liked to use near the barracks, where she often went at night when she couldn’t sleep. She stared out across the shifting cloudscape below, and the early evening light slipping into night in the fullness of time. Taking a deep breath, Tiadrin sat down, hesitated for a moment, and then unfurled the letter.

_Dear Mum and Dad_

_I’m sorry I haven’t written before now. We’ve been really busy this end, and honestly I didn’t know where to start._

_Callum asks how you both are and if you’re doing okay. And would like me to remind you that if there’s anything he can do for you, you just have to ask (seriously, he’s worse than Ethari, if that’s even possible. Who knew two of them could exist in the world?)_

_How are you? Are you coping okay? I bet its cold at the Storm Spire, we just had our first snow fall in Katolis. And I bet Zym’s exploding in height, how tall is he now? Ez is over six feet tall and he’s not even fifteen yet. Sad thing is I’m probably the shortest of the group now – Callum reckons horns don’t count. I beg to differ, and I can’t hold it over him until we’re on my side of the border. Native rules and all that._

_Politics wise, I think it’s going smoothly for the most part. I hang round a lot of diplomats now so I hear the actual useful gossip – some people on both sides are still dragging their heels, but even those who are reserved about relations between Xadia and the Pentarchy are seeing the benefit we can all get from this Alliance. At least I really hope so._

_Does it snow at the Storm Spire in winter? We just got our first snowfall here. In the spirit of ‘diplomacy’ we tried to have a snow person competition. It kind of didn’t go according to plan because Soren and I started a snowball fight instead. I thought Callum was going to kill us, but everyone laughed, so I guess I got away with it. Janai made a pretty impressive snow elf and managed to keep Amaya away from it – then one of the Moon mounts went on a rampage and trampled it. Then one of the Crownguard got in a fight with the Archmage and got his ass handed to him on a plate. I tried really hard not to laugh, I truly did. Personally, I blame Soren for everything that day._

_Have you heard from Runaan and Ethari? I hear his arm’s acting up a bit. I suppose the cold isn’t going to help. It’ll be good to see them both in the spring._

_And you two. I’m not looking forward to all the nuisance and the diplomacy_ _and the uncomfortable clothes that this Summit will involve, but I’ll be so glad to see you again._

_I don’t know what will happen, and I don’t know what your plans are but, I just wanted to let you know. Callum and Ez have said that if I can’t go back to the Silvergrove, I’m welcome to stay in Katolis. And the invitation is extended to you, if you ever need it._

_Take care of yourselves._

_I love you._

_Rayla_

Tiadrin was still recovering from reading the letter when Lain came to find her. She gave him a dull look when he dropped a bowl of soup into her lap, and shrugged offhandedly when she gestured questioningly at him. Gorok ran a strict eating in the kitchen _only_ policy. They were likely to get a bollocking for it later, but right now she didn’t care, and she knew she needed to eat more than a few mouthfuls. She ate the soup, letting Lain take the letter from her to read it again, his expression soft and pensive. Once she had eaten what she could, Tiadrin set the bowl aside and leaned against his shoulder, turning gratefully into his embrace.

“She’s scared.” She eventually said bluntly.

Lain sighed as he looked down at Rayla’s scrappy cursive. “Seems that way.” He agreed.

That Rayla was already thinking tactically about a fall-back plan hurt. Tiadrin wasn’t especially concerned for herself, should she remain banished. The Dragon Queen had welcomed her back with open arms. But Tiadrin was a lot older, had had more time to put down roots outside the Silvergrove. Rayla didn’t have that support network – at least, not in Xadia. She didn’t know how she felt about her daughter potentially choosing the humans over her kin, but if she could never go home, what else could she conceivably do?

With a heavy sigh, Tiadrin pressed her hands to her face, trying to detangle her emotions, with little success. Lain pressed a kiss to her hair, and just held her. His silence was appreciated, it made it easier to marshal her thoughts into order. By the time she was ready to talk, she found her hand clasped unconsciously around the necklace under her tunic.

“I hate this feelin’.”

Lain turned his head in her direction, pondering his words carefully.

“Our daughter needs us. Maybe now more than ever. And she’s hundreds of leagues away.”

“Is it that much different from when we left to join the Guard?” he asked, his tone low and even.

Tiadrin scowled at the setting sun. “Yes and no.” She admitted begrudgingly.

“She’s not a kid anymore, Tiadrin.” He said, very gently to soften the blow of his words.

They’d missed pretty much everything by this point.

“What do we _do_?” she asked eventually, hating how small her own voice sounded.

“I trust her to do the right thing.” Lain said evenly. She could see he was struggling with his own emotions, but his voice was calm and steady. “She’s not stupid. She got this far without us, or Runaan and Ethari. Whatever she does now, is her choice.”

Tiadrin sighed dramatically and leaned back against his shoulder, staring up at the rocky ceiling that was bathed in honey coloured light.

“I accept that. But I’m still pissed off about it.”

Lain chuckled and poked her in the ribs, and she closed her eyes.

“Well,” he said bracingly, scanning the letter again. “She seems to have her head screwed on right, if nothin’ else. And she’s surrounded by people who care about her.”

Tiadrin scoffed. She folded her arms and crossed one leg over the other, shoulders hunched. He might be right, but that didn’t mean she had to concede to his point with grace.

“Such as it is.” She yelped when Lain pinched her hard. “What was that for?!” she snapped at him, digging her elbow into his ribs.

“That human got us out of that hell hole. And Rayla’s clearly fond of him.”

“So?” Tiadrin asked flatly, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“So,” he said with a sigh, giving her a tired and affectionate smile. “Just rein in those maternal instincts. _Just_ a bit?” he emphasised his plea by pinching his thumb and index finger together.

She pursed her lips and tried not to look _too_ petulant. It wasn’t necessarily that Callum was a human that upset her. There was a very broad and deeply convoluted context to the situation; he was the eldest son of the man who had killed the Dragon King. He was also, by all accounts, a talented mage – an _Archmage_ even, at such a young age. And the Dragon Prince always got excited whenever the Prince’s name was mentioned, or the young King of Katolis.

And, as Lain pointed out, they owed Callum their lives. Tiadrin had been too out of it to get a proper measure of the young man when they first met, and he had likewise been shattered from the effort the spell to release them had taken. That had certainly been a surprise, to find out their daughter was in a committed relationship with a human. A Prince, no less. She had stopped being surprised at that point, too overwhelmed to keep up – his being an Archmage had slipped by her attention for the first few days.

From what Tiadrin could remember observing, he had been polite and friendly, and done a poor job of hiding how ill he was. Rayla had kept flitting between her parents and Callum, trying to look after everyone at once and working herself into a state. Tiadrin blamed Ethari for that, it smacked of his influence; if Runaan hadn’t been in such bad shape, he would probably have done the same thing himself.

Sighing, Tiadrin lifted the locket out from under her tunic, and ran her thumb over its surface. Her heart ached, and she didn’t know how to alleviate the pressure it was exerting on her ribs.

“We should write back.” She said quietly, thumbnail digging into the clasp, so tempted to open it.

“I agree.” Lain murmured back, taking her other hand in both of his.

Tiadrin furiously blinked back tears, willing herself to keep it together. “I don’t know what to say,” her voice was very ragged as she spoke.

Lain squeezed her hand. “I’ll do it. I’ll think of somethin’. Just tell me when you’re ready what you want her to know.”

Sighing, she clutched the locket to her chest and looked out over the dramatic cloudscape before them, and closed her eyes. “I love her,” she said simply. She wanted to say more, but there were way too many things, all fighting each other to be heard, and she couldn’t voice any of them.

Lain pressed her hand again. After a while, he patted her shoulder and stood up, taking the bowl with him. She stayed a bit longer, watching the sky darken, before she picked herself up, dusted herself down, and went to take her shift. She should have been thinking about all the security risks, and how best to watch the Dragon Prince despite how quickly he could move (and his penchant for mischief), but all she could think about tonight was Rayla.

XOXO

It continued to be cold in Katolis. Rayla also continued to fret, but she knew it was a waste of her energy and attention. Things continued to go well, diplomatically speaking. The Healers and Medics seemed to be getting on with each other, and the soldiers continued to have good natured fun at each other’s expense. Rayla was rather amused when they broke into little cliques based solely on their weapons of choice, and cackled with laughter alongside Jenny every time each group tried to entice Mattrim into their ranks. The guy was an old hand, very well-travelled and experienced, and fed up to the back teeth with the youngsters’ nonsense.

Rayla might have felt bad for him, but Amaya collard Matt about shields in the middle of a heated argument between the factions of ‘Sword’ and ‘Warhammers’. She had to slink away out of ear shot to get all the laughs out; Mattrim was one of those few humans she had a great deal of respect for and didn’t wish to openly antagonise, like Barius, so she spared him the indignity of being laughed at so publicly.

Indeed, the greatest friction seemed to be within the Pentarchy itself. Since Katolis and Duren had greatly endeared themselves to Lux Aurea, among other places in Xadia, the rest of the human kingdoms were at best restless and unsure, and at worst covertly hostile to their brethren. That Del Bar’s High Mage was openly calling for an end to the use of Dark Magic made matters even more complicated.

Ezran was going the softly approach, by phasing the practise out slowly and giving people who relied on it both directly and indirectly for their livelihoods time to adjust and find new ways to keep working, while offering them additional support in the interim. Rayla wasn’t technically supposed to be privy to Council business, but she had caught the tail end of many a conversation on the topic between Callum and Ezran, as well as heard them bring up points in other conversations as and when the thoughts arose. That, and Miriam found out all secrets eventually, so Rayla would hear about the changes to the laws if she hung round long enough to listen.

Neolandia was especially concerned about Dark Magic, but it was split down the middle. Dark Magic had been a staple of their culture for countless generations – it had also been the reason that Prince Kasef, and many of their soldiers, had died. Ezran kept pointing out that Viren hadn’t always been conniving and ruthless, and his points were backed up by Brindh, who was very open about his concerns regarding Viren’s research and the potential for another Mage to walk that path if they all weren’t careful. He had gone back to Del Bar for the rest of the winter, leaving his nephew to stay in Katolis and help Callum go through said notes to catalogue useful information and destroy the rest. The only things deemed worth saving were details of how to recognise more insidious spells, and how to treat the wounds that could result from them. It was an ongoing task, that Callum intermittently oversaw in between all the other duties in his balancing act.

Rayla personally had hopes that more humans would become adept at Primal magic. A sparse handful already had started, and Callum was actively encouraging more people to try. Having other Mages around the castle was definitely drumming up interest, and more people sought them out as time went on. It helped that Brock and Serena had been around long enough to be familiar facets of Castle life, and other people like Sabah and Nia were just so inherently likeable and good with people, and willing to share their knowledge, that would be mages gravitated towards them.

One snowy November day saw yet another political social, albeit a fairly relaxed one. Rayla hung round looking pretty and inoffensive, cursing the inconvenience of her impending period as she felt the deep aches in her abdomen. It was cold out, she felt moody and brittle, and she couldn’t have sex with Callum for the next week. No matter what she told herself or whatever way she tried to look at it, the thought of Callum covered in blood, even if she knew it was her own, scared her so much that she couldn’t get past the foreplay. He had been limp and seemingly lifeless in her arms, bleeding heavily from a nasty wound, one too many times for comfort. It felt rather ironic, considering she had been trained to be an assassin, to be so squeamish about blood, but there you go. Rayla _hated_ living up to the stereo type of a moody menstruater, but the chips were stacking up against her favour this month, so she kept silent and away from Soren and that lot to avoid the temptation to get in a fist fight.

It was a relief when Callum finally arrived, though he looked very tired. He hadn’t got round to shaving for a few days, so he had a fine layer of stubble on his jaw. Bran raised his eyebrows at Rayla from Callum’s side and gestured with needless grandeur.

“My Lady, I return your beau to you. In mostly one piece.”

Rayla gave Callum a searching look, arms folded. “Rough day?”

“Twenty-six journals down.” Bran said dully. “About fifty thousand to go.” He clapped Callum’s shoulder in a gesture all too casual for the circumstances. He was usually ultra-professional in these settings, which indicated just _how_ rough it had been today. “You need a drink. Can I get you anything?” he asked Rayla.

She smiled and waved him away vaguely. “Thanks, but I’m on duty in a couple of hours.”

While Bran was off getting wine, Rayla tucked Callum into a quiet corner of the room, and asked, “You okay?”

Callum rubbed his face before running his fingers through his already messy hair. Fuck Callum for looking so damned appealing when she couldn’t have him. Fuck him to Oblivion and back.

“Argh…another letter from Verdeshire arrived this morning. The provisions I asked to be set aside for them aren’t enough. I might have to tap into the emergency reserves in the Castle stores. I just _don’t_ understand why the Councillor left it so late to apply for help! I feel like I might actually need to go there in person,” he wrung his hands with a look of annoyance and deep concern, and she could feel the weight of his next words settling heavily on his shoulders. “And then I spent two hours pouring over abridged notes on all the different uses of Sky Dragon parts.” He shot her a look. “And now you’re scowling at me. What did I do _this_ time?”

Rayla gave him a flat look. “Nothin’.” She sighed. He was clearly too wound up to take teasing at the moment, and there were too many witnesses for her to start flirting the way she wanted to. And even if she did flirt it wouldn’t go anywhere this week.

Bran came back, and handed Callum a large glass of wine. “To the shreds of our sanity,” he said solemnly, clinking their vessels together.

The pair of them drank deeply, and gave each other commiserating looks. Bran left soon after because he needed a complete break from magic, which was never going to happen around Callum, and he scowled and stalked off when Seb floated by and decided to follow him.

“Aww, you still mad at me?” Seb simpered.

“I’m not talking to you.” Bran said shortly.

“Oh, he’s still mad. I’m not forgiven.” He flashed Callum a winning smile, and then turned aside quickly at the look Callum gave him. The very Princely ‘we are _not_ amused’ look that brooked no argument.

“Of all the songs you could have picked, it was _Ragnar The Red_. My Uncle won’t stop singing it now. Of course I don’t forgive you,” Bran snapped.

The pair of them filtered their way into the crowd, leaving poor Callum in peace. Rayla took his hand and gave it a loving squeeze, and he turned to her with a tired smile. “Do me a favour?” he begged.

“What?”

“Don’t leave me. And just talk to me about something that has _nothing_ to do with politics or magic.”

Rayla snorted and rolled her eyes. “Give it five minutes and you’ll be yammerin’ away about Moon Rays and Sun Flares, or whatever the fuck they’re called.” Callum chuckled instead of berating her for her coarse language, and leaned into her touch when she put an arm around him. “You really don’t look okay.” She murmured after she kissed his cheek.

“I’m just tired, that’s all.” He passed a hand over his eyes. The smile he gave her was warm, and not quite convincing enough to alleviate her concerns.

Lifting her gaze to survey the room, Rayla noticed Lord Tarren looking in their direction, and forced her expression to go completely blank. “Don’t look now.”

“Whut?” Callum asked, dazed and supressing a yawn. He followed her gaze, saw the man, and pretended to keep scanning the room and completely miss the pointed look he was getting from the Viscount. “Why don’t I ever listen to you?” he complained in an undertone.

“My life would be so much less interestin’ if you did.” Rayla replied in a tightly controlled tone.

Seb, whether by accident or design, chose that precise moment to whoop loudly and clap Aibeck on the back, calling loudly to ask if anyone wanted to play a game of cards. The elf recoiled in alarm, still not used to the very friendly and overt way Katolians interacted with relative strangers, and stared at him like he thought the guy was crazy. It succeeded in causing enough of a disturbance that even Tarren looked their way, and Rayla slid both her and Callum neatly out of sight and into a more secluded corner, behind the crowd where Tarren was standing. It was with a measure of satisfaction that Rayla saw the startled way he looked back and forth for Callum, and went to search for him in completely the opposite direction.

Half expecting to get some loving and snide remark about her being a sneak, Rayla turned back to Callum, and frowned when she saw his expression. He looked completely exhausted. She waited, all but holding her breath, for him to speak. Eventually, Callum leaned back against the wall, and clutched at his chest, grimacing.

“Do I need to get Brock?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he waved her away vaguely, shaking his head.

“You’re not _fine_.” Rayla snapped. Her nerves were frayed enough as it was without him doing something abnormally stupid.

Callum lifted his gaze and scowled. “Don’t give me that look.”

“With all due respect,” Rayla said through her teeth, smiling painfully as one of the junior ministers looked at them curiously. When she looked away, Rayla continued, “ _Fuck off_. You can’t be trusted to look after yourself.”

“You are _such_ a hypocrite,” Callum began, and yelped when Rayla wrapped a hand around his wrist and dug her fingers into the pressure points.

“Do not _fuckin’_ start with me.” She snarled. “I’m gonna protect you from y’self even if it _kills_ me.” They stared each other down, both getting increasingly annoyed. Wanting to lighten the mood a bit, she added, “I’m gonna need you in one-piece next week, since I can’t have you this week.”

“Yeah, great, _thanks_.” Callum snapped back. “Knowing I’m just an orgasm to you makes me feel _so_ much better,”

That stung way more than Rayla cared to admit to, and they continued to scowl fiercely at each other. She knew she should back down, she _knew_ Callum was under a lot of pressure, and it wasn’t his fault she was already in a bad mood. But Rayla was too proud and stubborn to let it go gracefully.

It was kind of a relief when Ezran bumbled into their midst unknowingly with that big smile of his and broke the tension. “Hey guys!” his face fell and his hand lowered to his side as he took in their expressions. “Err…am I interrupting something?” he asked awkwardly, shuffling his feet and hunching his shoulders over, making himself a smaller target and coming down closer to their level.

“What is it?” Callum asked heavily, passing a hand over his eyes.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Ezran said, putting on his best neutral expression.

“Right.” Callum said shortly.

Ezran scuttled away, and Bait gave Callum a reproachful sort of _harrumph_ before he plodded off in the King’s wake. Callum leaned back against the wall the moment his brother was out of sight, and pressed a hand over his heart with another grimace. Rayla desperately wanted to ask if he was okay, but she was afraid of antagonising him further. The last thing either of them needed was a massive, stupid fight.

“I’m gonna go,” Callum mumbled, eyes closed but turned in Rayla’s direction. “Before I say or do something I’ll really regret.” He opened his eyes, and though he was in pain she could see the resolve in his gaze solidifying. “I’m sorry for being a jerk.”

And just like that, all the wind was taken from the sails of her anger. Rayla touched his arm and pressed her brow against his temple. There were a thousand different things she wanted to say in that moment: mostly variations of take care of yourself, apology accepted, I love you, I’m sorry for being a moody Strider.

“See y’later?” she hedged, hating how vulnerable she sounded.

Callum’s smile was deep, loving, and complicated. “Yeah,” he promised.

“Okay.” She took a step back, not really wanting to, but knowing he probably needed some time alone. She felt a bit better when he squeezed her hand, and gave her a polite bow for the benefit of the handful of onlookers watching them, before he walked away.

Rayla turned aside, trying to think of what she could do to occupy herself for the rest of the day. Ezran was caught in deep conversation, the other soldiers were fixed in a fierce debate… She didn’t feel like joining in with any of it. Whether it was intuition, anticipation, or simply paranoia, she turned back to look at Callum, and her heart lurched painfully when she saw he was leaning heavily against the wall, hunched over with his legs shaking. Despite the speed with which she was moving, Ariadne beat her to him; the medic poked his shoulder with a frown, and Rayla caught the tail end of her words as she skidded to a halt by his side.

“Come on, you’re _really_ not well.”

“It’s fine…” Callum insisted, one hand over his heart, the other pressed to his temple.

Rayla couldn’t keep her scowl in check. Ariadne had that infuriating politician look on her face, which just pissed her off even more. “Could you get us a chair, please?” she asked politely.

After Rayla had grabbed one, they both pushed him into it, and Ariadne went to get some water. He reached for Rayla’s hand, and she squeezed back to reassure him.

“Is…is it just me…or is it really hot in here?” he asked unsteadily.

Rayla pressed a hand against his brow; he was burning up. She mentioned it to Ariadne when she got back, and the medic set about checking him over, brow creasing with mounting concern.

“Is he okay?” Rayla asked shortly, keeping her anxiety in check.

“This isn’t _quite_ my area,” she admitted. “Let’s see…” she put a hand under his chin and lifted it up so that he was looking her in the eye. Raising her other hand, she asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Callum stared at her for a long moment before saying, “W.”

Ariadne blinked, and looked at her right hand, realising it was a close approximation to the hand gesture for the letter in question in Sign Language. “Well.” She said bluntly, checking his pupils closely. “Colour me concerned.”

“You asked-” he began indignantly.

“For a number you moron. Not a letter.” Ariadne said briskly. Without looking away, she said to Rayla, “Get Nia or Serena.”

The closest of the two happened to be Serena; she followed swiftly, and gave Callum another examination. He looked peeved to be the centre of so much attention, but acquiesced nonetheless. Serena wasn’t as bad as Brock, but she was still very much protective of those under her care; you didn’t argue back with a Healer if you knew what was good for you.

“Well?” Ariadne asked briskly once Serena had checked the different pulses in his wrists.

“Hmm…” hand on chin, she appraised Callum, who was looking very sheepish. “I don’t think it’s anything to be too concerned about. There’re a few bugs doing the rounds at the moment. You’ve been doing a lot of work for the Council this week, yes?” Callum nodded, and she gestured to his mouth. “Let me see your tongue again. Yes, you’re tired, probably coming down with something, and it’s just exacerbating the wound.”

To his credit, Callum just about hid his scowl from Serena. The façade cracked when she gave him an amused look.

“I can always go get Brock,” she threatened, schooling herself into a neutral expression.

In the end, Callum left the room with his grace still intact, but he scowled the moment they were out of sight of the door, and needed to rest halfway up the first set of stairs. Rayla knew she was overstepping her place when she asked one of the guards outside his rooms to get Brock, but by then Callum was so fatigued that he didn’t care. He flopped onto the sofa in a heap, clutching his chest and head.

Rayla watched him for a long moment pensively, listening to his uneven breathing. “What do you need me to do?”

He sighed and cracked an eye open to look at her. “Just…stay until Brock gets here?”

Rayla got him some water and propped him up on the cushions before settling down to wait. She quizzed him on what he had eaten and drunk that day, and mentally ran through all the ways he could have been poisoned. Breakfast he had shared with Ezran, lunch with the High Council, and a brief snack with Bran in the library, with the food and drink having been on a communal platter and picked at random every time. As far as Rayla knew, no one else was sick; Bran could have conceivably tampered with the wine he had brought over, but she was fairly confident that he wasn’t a threat. He was very open about his ambivalence towards magic in general, having only really been involved with it because of his family’s position in Del Bar. His big concern was people’s livelihoods, which he felt was being taken into consideration so far. And it was unlikely that someone had slipped something into the specific bottle he’d picked up because he had been arguing loudly with Seb when they left the social, completely well and healthy.

Callum sighed and rubbed his temples. Rayla stopped running through lists of slow acting poisons in her mind and smoothed the hair back off his brow.

“I feel like I did when I had the flu…” he mumbled, closing his eyes. He smiled sadly and his shoulders shook like he was laughing. “It probably is just stress. I’m sorry for being a jerk,” he apologised again.

It was Rayla’s turn to sigh, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulder. “C’mere, dummy.” She murmured, pressing her face into his hair.

“If I’m coming down with the flu, you probably don’t want to do that,” he said carefully.

“Why?” she grumped at him, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

Callum chuckled tiredly, putting a hand on her arm and giving her a loving squeeze. “I don’t want you to get horn ache because of me.”

“I’ll live.” She said carelessly.

“Yeah, but I probably won’t.”

Rayla poked him in the ribs, but smiled.

XOXO

The rest of the week did not go as Rayla had planned or expected.

Callum was put on bed rest to recover, Brock’s prognosis being that he was stressed and run down, and the wound was taking most of the energy his immune system had going spare. In addition to the stuff for it, he knocked up an anti-viral tincture, and insisted that Callum not be involved in any Council business for a few days.

Then, a couple of days after that, some kind of stomach bug started doing the rounds in the Castle. The nasty kind that lasted for around 48 hours. A lot of the soldiers got sick, as well as the staff around the castle. Amaya insisted on halting most of the activities to stop it spreading between units. Brock and Demeter coordinated moving the patients in the infirmary around to keep the most vulnerable people away from the commotion, and to accommodate anyone who came in needing urgent care as a result of the bug.

And then, while people were attempting to work around the situation at hand, there was a spate of food poisoning from some bad grains. It hit the kitchens and the barracks first, and luckily the group that Amaya and Janai put together to investigate located the source fairly quickly. Plans were made to sure up the water proofing in the storerooms, and the rest of the contaminated stock was destroyed. Amaya ended up suspending absolutely everything except necessary security detail and told Rayla to just keep an eye on the Xadians whenever she could – other than that, she was free. Most days, Rayla could have killed for that kind of freedom, but Callum was resting, and Ezran was incapacitated from the stomach bug. Soren and Barius were rushed off their feet filling in for their colleagues, as were Kora and Mattrim and the others who weren’t in bed recovering.

It never did rain, but it certainly bloody well poured on occasion.

Frustrated and bored, Rayla found herself that Friday morning begrudgingly going up to the infirmary to check on the Healers. No one was around in the atrium, so she went to bang on the dispensary door. A pale faced, bespectacled young man opened to door cautiously, keeping it mostly closed, and fixed Rayla with a nervous look. She knew she had seen him from a distance before around the castle (the rounded frames of his glasses were quite distinctive), but didn’t know anything about him.

“Yes?”

“Is Brock or Serena around?”

His brow creased and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to slam the door in her face. That certainly didn’t endear him to her.

“No. And they aren’t to be disturbed. Seeing to the critical patients right now,”

“Is anyone else around?” Rayla would rather not be here doing this, but she had a duty to perform and was currently the only one free to do it.

“No.” he said shortly.

“Who is it, Alex?” Ariadne’s voice came from across the dispensary.

“No one,” he said over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Rayla.

With so few shits left to give, she folded her arms and gave him a piercing look. She may not have had all that much standing in the day to day running of the Castle, but that didn’t mean she had to put up with this kind of attitude from some random twiggy little berk.

“What do they want?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, Ariadne,” Rayla called out loud, cupping a hand to her mouth to amplify the reach of her voice so that she couldn’t possibly be missed.

The guy gulped and dropped his gaze, and the door opened wider. Ariadne looked frazzled, and her right leg wobbled underneath her. “Everything okay?” the woman asked lightly, ignoring Alex’s reaction and her weak leg.

“The General sent me to check on the Healers with all the stuff goin’ on.” Rayla explained.

Ariadne’s expression became fixed. “It’s just Baelan in today, I’m afraid. We got hit with the food poisoning.”

Rayla’s eyes widened. That was a lot of Healers down for the count. “How many of you are on duty at the moment?”

She sighed, and tried to look inconspicuous as she leaned against the door frame with fatigue. “Right now it’s just us three. The apothecary in the city is sending a couple of people along later, but right now it’s just us,” she gestured between herself, Alex and Baelan in the background, who smiled awkwardly and waved at Rayla from across the dispensary.

Thinking quickly, Rayla asked, “Everyone else on bed rest?”

“Yeah. Brock’s in intensive care, Serena’s dealing with the patients who came in with the bug, and Nia’s gone down with food poisoning.” She looked up and to the right with a frown of concentration as she counted on her fingers, trying to remember the people’s names. “Janice, Anita…Rhydian and Mjrn are taking it in turns to cover the shifts in the wards. Everyone else is down.”

Not really wanting to get involved, _especially_ with the way Alex was looking at her, but knowing she couldn’t leave them so short staffed, Rayla offered, “Do you need any help today? I’m off duty until further notice so the General won’t come crashin’ through lookin’ for me.”

Ariadne wilted, and gave her a thankful look. “If you’ve got the time to spare, we’d be _so grateful_.”

Alex looked affronted, and because Ariadne ignored him, so did Rayla as she walked into the dispensary. There was a sea of pots, bottles and beakers strewn all over the work surfaces, with different remedies at varying stages of completion. A water bath simmered on a stove in the corner, and Baelan was moving a collection of glass measuring cups from his workstation to the sink in the opposite corner.

“Where do we start?” Rayla asked, looking around and remembering alchemy and poison making lessons with Runaan. He would have had a fit if he saw the mess in this place – this level of chaos was a hanging offense under his roof.

“Just…let me think,” Ariadne closed her eyes for a moment, hands pressed together and against her chin while she contemplated the situation. After a while, she said slowly, “Baelan…can you see to the creams? Alex, get the patient notes out and check we have enough ingredients for the powered medicines. Rayla, can you start on the washing up? We need to make sure everything’s clean before we start the next round. I’ll tidy up over here. Once that’s done we’ll figure out how best to deploy everyone for the next set of medicines.”

It was certainly tedious work, but Rayla knew she could disinfect efficiently, and she was a fast worker. With that done and quickly checking with Baelan, she started on the rest of the equipment as well, and Ariadne thanked her when she noticed this. It was mostly silent while everyone worked on their particular jobs, but Rayla could feel Alex’s gaze boring into her periodically. He kept getting twitchy any time an elf was near him, so she made a point of staying completely out of his way. Baelan had to stand next to him to reach for a book on one of the shelves, and the guy jumped and backed away with his hands in the air like he was fending off an attacker. The Tidebound elf apologised profusely and hurried away, looking quite distressed, and apparently with the wrong book he had picked up in his agitation and haste. From what she had so far observed of Baelan, he was at least as big a pacifist as Ezran – guy couldn’t hurt a fly unless given serious and prolonged provocation, and serious cajoling. Plus, the idea that a Healer would deliberately cause harm was kind of ludicrous to a Xadian.

Rayla couldn’t help rolling her eyes at Alex’s behaviour, and made a point of asking Baelan loudly if he was all right, to both reassure him and to let Alex know she had noticed the way he was acting. Ariadne watched the whole exchange sidelong from her place on the workbench, with that shrewd and calculating look all diplomats and politicians had in tense situations. _Good_ , Rayla thought sardonically to herself, making sure her face was devoid of emotion before she met the woman’s gaze. One of the best ways to gauge a person’s true nature was to watch them under pressure. Now was as good a time as any to make a judgement.

Ariadne asked with unfailing politeness if Rayla was all right, and then requested that she help Baelan go through patient notes to find the right powdered ingredients. It was slow work, made slightly easier by the fact that most of the containers had had the name of the herb inside scrawled in Draconic and Common Elven beside the Katolian name on the label. Still, it was all alphabetical according to Katolian script, so Rayla was constantly walking back and forth along the shelves to find what she was looking for.

Rather unsubtly, Alex baulked when Ariadne asked him to help them and said that he wasn’t comfortable with doing so. With a face devoid of any expression she took the guy aside and asked him something indistinct. Baelan bowed his head over the pestle and mortar in his hands, breaking up a powder that had started to congeal and go hard, and Rayla found an excuse to get closer and listen in. Ariadne wasn’t stupid, and most likely noticed, but she didn’t react to Rayla or change the volume of her voice.

“I’m not happy with it. That’s all.” Alex insisted.

“This is a less than ideal situation, but we need to make do with what resources we have.”

Alex glanced at Rayla, clanking her way around the tincture shelf, and then looked at the floor, mumbling. “I don’t feel safe.”

Ariadne didn’t speak for a long time. Eventually, she said, “Every single elf that came to Katolis has been vetted. General Amaya and Lord Corvus would not have let anyone into the Capital who posed a threat to the King, and Rayla is a personal friend of the King and Prince Callum. I appreciate there is a long and problematic history to this context, but I can assure you that every effort has been made to keep everyone safe during this exchange.”

“I still don’t feel comfortable with-” he glanced at Rayla, who stared at the bottle of wood betony in her hands, ears pricked. “I don’t like not feeling safe with all these elves walking around.”

Baelan paused over powders he was measuring out, clearly having heard every word as well. Rayla chanced a glance at Ariadne, who was managing to keep her scowl mostly under control. “And you don’t think the Xadians feel quite unsafe having to deal with that kind of remark? In a foreign place surrounded by people who, just a few years ago, were considered enemies? And with nowhere to go to if things get aggressive?”

“That’s different-!” Alex began, but Ariadne wasn’t having any of it.

“You have two choices, Alex. Buck up and act like a fucking professional or get out of this dispensary. Demeter left me in charge and I am _not_ tolerating this. _Don’t_ think I didn’t notice the way you keep looking at them. They have done _nothing_ but be polite and get on with their jobs since they got here. You’re the one creating a hostile environment. You did the _exact_ same thing to Omar last month. I’d rather lose a pair of hands than continue to allow a situation that makes everyone uncomfortable like this escalate.”

Alex stared at her in complete shock for a long moment before spluttering incoherently. “You can’t-! You have no right-!”

“If you feel that way then take it up with Demeter and tell her to come talk to me about it. You want to stay here and work with us three?”

“No I _don’t_ ,”

Ariadne pointed to the door. “Then get the fuck out of my dispensary.”

Alex stared at her, wide eyed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do not test me.” Her tone was acerbic. “If you can’t be mature and professional about this, you’re not wanted here. And while I acknowledge and appreciate the cultural context to your concerns, I am _not_ tolerating your attitude anymore. You don’t have any more right to be here than they do, and as I said, I’m not putting up with a hostile work environment. And if I have to ask you one more time to leave I’m getting the guard.” Alex blinked, mouth gaping open in shock. “ _Go_.” Ariadne barked more loudly.

The man scuttled to the door and slammed it in his haste to escape. The moment he was gone Ariadne slumped against the table, shaking with fatigue. Baelan hesitated before going to help her to the nearest chair. She thanked him with as few words as possible, and accepted the cup of water he passed to her.

“Keep going,” she told them both as Baelan stepped back. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Rayla kept a furtive eye on her, in part to keep gauging her reaction, and partly to make sure she was all right. Ariadne did a series of tapping motions, first around her hand, and then in a sequence from the crown of her head down to her chest, breathing deep and evenly. When she was recovered, she heaved herself up on her bad leg, and approached the two elves.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m obliged to remind you that if you have any concerns you can speak to Brock or Demeter, or to Janai and Prince Callum.” She pressed her hands together again and supressed a sigh. “In the meantime, we _really_ need to keep working. I’m going to sit for a bit and rethink our strategy. Baelan, how many patients do we have down for liquid medicines over the weekend?”

After about half an hour mulling over their to do list and available resources, Ariadne put together a plan of action. To save her leg, and the faff it would cause if she collapsed, she stayed at the central workbench with the paperwork while Baelan pulled the right ingredients from the shelves. He laid everything out in the correct order according to each recipe in the patient notes, and Rayla just had to measure the right amounts out and bag or bottle everything up. It was fairly mindless work on Rayla’s part, because she didn’t have to think tactically or second guess what a particular patient might need. It did however keep enough of her focus that her mind didn’t stray to more dark thoughts as she made sure she measured out the right amounts and put them in the right container before carefully and clearly writing the instructions on the side. As per the confidentiality procedure, Ariadne was the one to write down the patients’ names on their medicines, as the senior duty medic.

Rayla felt infinitely better about the whole thing when Ariadne and Baelan shared a joke about how technically he should be outranking her in terms of age and years of experience. Their genuine laughter eased the tense knot in her chest that had been there since she had met Alex.

“That, and my handwriting is atrocious.” Ariadne added, slowly and laboriously copying out a particularly long name onto a too small label.

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Baelan insisted, passing by with a box of empty jars, tactfully not looking at the name on the folder.

Ariadne fixed him with a look, and scribbled something on a spare piece of paper. She held it up for him to see. “It’s like a drunken spider was dipped in ink and thrown at the paper.”

Baelan looked blankly from her face to her handwriting and back. “Would you believe, I have genuinely seen worse?”

She gave the paper a theatrically startled look, and dropped it onto the bench. “May the Light preserve us…that’s not physically possible.”

Once everything was named, it got wrapped up carefully in cloth bindings, and again Ariadne copied out delivery instructions for each one while the others washed out all the beakers and dusted the scales down.

“We need lunch.” Ariadne muttered to herself as she tucked one of the last packages into a big mail bag. “Lunch and a rest. Everyone make sure you’re drinking enough,” she added as she moved between tables.

Rayla raised an eyebrow at Baelan, who rolled his eyes with a real smile. “Yeah, she does that.” He said comfortably in Common Elven. “Thinking out loud, and constantly reminding everyone else to look after themselves.”

“My ears are burning,” Ariadne said, looking over her shoulder with amusement.

Baelan gave her a real smile, and lifted a hand in a gentle, placating gesture. “All good things, assuredly.” He said in broken Katolian, even though his pronunciation was pretty good.

Rayla couldn’t stop herself from chuckling, and gave him a rueful smile when he looked at her curiously.

“Did I say it wrong?”

“Not quite. ‘I assure you’ would make more sense, but people would understand what you meant.” She was half expecting Ariadne to chip in with her blunt assessment, but the woman was busy going over the to do list to double check they had ticked everything off.

Once the list had been quadruple checked by both Ariadne and Baelan, they found they had run out of dried rosemary for tea, so Rayla volunteered to get some more from the main storeroom, citing the fact that she was faster than they were. Kind of expecting Ariadne to argue the point, she surprised Rayla by waving her away and telling her to carry on. Feeling comfortable enough to poke her on the issue, Rayla gave a wry smile when Ariadne spread her hands in a facetious imitation of Courtly proceedings and asked, “You’ve met my siblings, yes? I know how to pick my battles. Off you go,” and with that she shooed Rayla out of the dispensary.

Despite the unpleasant start to her impromptu shift, and the incessant aches in her abdomen, Rayla was in a fairly good mood, and feeling charitable. So after she got the rosemary she ran down to the kitchens to snag some food for the medical team.

“Sorry, Rayla,” Barius grunted as he heaved a sack of flour across the room. “I don’t have any time today. Too many staff members off sick.”

Rayla dropped the bag of herbs onto a chair and went to grab the next sack for him. “I’m only here t’scrounge some food, not conversation.” She told him airily.

“Oh?” Barius paused for a moment to straighten out his back and wipe the sweat from his forehead, eyebrow raised at her. After briefly explaining the situation, he said conspiratorially, “Say no more,” and went to one of the work benches, that was piled high with all manner of mouth wateringly delicious things.

Rayla jerked around when she saw something glowing behind the pile of sacks they had just made, and stuck her hand around the corner. It came back with Bait, and she scooped him up to settle him on her hip. “Where did _you_ spring from? Shouldn’t y’be keepin’ Ez in line?”

Bait grumped at her, and she knew better than to initiate a staring contest, so she set him down on the tabletop.

Barius looked up from the meal he was wrapping for her with an exasperated kind of smile. “I’m sure the King sent him because he can’t come terrorise the kitchens himself.”

“Y’mean sent him t’pilfer jelly tarts for ‘im.” Rayla said pointedly, looking the glow toad _right_ in the eye. The fact that he growled and shuffled around to turn his back merely strengthened her suspicions.

Barius chuckled and told her that if she was willing to wait five minutes, he could give her some pasties to take as well. He was usually so strict about people taking food without authorisation, so Rayla was quite touched by this gesture. Tacitly, she thanked him and made up for the inconvenience she was causing him by tidying up the counter and moving the last of the sacks for him while he put together the med team’s meal. Barius asked brusquely who was present in the dispensary, and accordingly gave her one vegetarian pasty, and two with chicken and an assortment of vegetables.

Before leaving, Rayla leaned down to scratch Bait’s head, then under his chin to give him a tickle. “Tell the King I said hi. And when he’s feelin’ better we’ll play Sunfire Hold’em.” Bait’s expression didn’t change much, but his glow became distinctly orange, growing even brighter when she leaned down to give him a loving squeeze.

Because Ariadne and Baelan were both in the healing profession, neither of them had stopped working since Rayla left. It had to have been a good half hour already, so she dumped the packages on the main table and wordlessly put the kettle on. After seven minutes of the two going back and forth over the best way to get the medicines delivered, Rayla cleared her throat loudly. She felt just a bit bad when Ariadne jumped out of her skin – she may have felt even worse, but the woman started laughing as she rubbed a hand over her frantically beating heart.

“Fucking hell, Rayla. Do you ever switch stealth mode off?”

“Nope.” Rayla said innocently, and leaned over to the spoils of her trip. She plucked the vegetarian pasty from the pile, clearly marked by Barius to avoid confusion, and tossed it to Baelan. “Compliments of the kitchen staff.”

Ariadne’s eyes went wide. “You got pasties from Barius? _How_?”

Rayla batted her eyes and handed her a pasty instead of throwing it. “I have my ways.”

“No, _seriously._ ” Ariadne persisted, unwrapping the food without complaint. “Barius is a grizzled old battle axe. Takes shit from absolutely _no one_. How did you pull this off?”

Rayla grinned wickedly. “I asked nicely.”

Ariadne blinked, and slouched away towards the table that had been cleared for the express purpose of eating, and where Rayla had already set the tea down for them.

“ _Clearly_ , I need to rethink my tactics.”

Baelan had already taken a bite, and as he chewed, he appraised the pasty in his hands. “This is nice. What is it?” he asked in the Common Tongue.

“It’s basically a Durenese pasty.” She explained, pointing at the thick, pleated crust on the rounded side of the pastry. “Or the closest equivalent you can get in Katolis. You put finely chopped whatever you want in with something like potato, wrap it in pastry and _tah dah_.”

“Why do you say it’s only an equivalent?” Baelan asked before taking another bite.

Rayla poured some more tea and joined them at the table with the rest of the food she had snagged for them. She was a bit curious as well, and perfectly happy to be silent and just observe for a bit.

“It’s one of those culturally contentious things. Like, which way round you put the jam and cream onto your scones. Everyone has a ‘right’ way of doing it. These things,” she waved her own pasty around for emphasis. “Were originally made for the miners to take with them to work. A real, _proper_ Durenese pasty has savoury filling one side, and sweet the other, so the miner could get two courses out of one meal. You’re also supposed to hold the crust while eating it, and throw it away after. It kept them from getting coal dust all over their food.”

“Huh.” Baelan looked down at the seemingly insignificant pasty in his hands. “That’s quite interesting. What’s the Katolian equivalent?”

Ariadne laughed and held up her pasty. “This. It’s got only one filling and the pleating on the side is all wrong. Plus,” she took a big bite out of the pleating for emphasis. “We eat it wrong because we’re heathens.”

Rayla snorted, and she jumped, like she had forgotten the Moonshadow elf was there. “Still think the cream goes on first.”

Ariadne sniggered, and worked quickly to cover it up. When Baelan gave her a questioning look, she said, with a theatrically heavy sigh, “In the Pentarchy, there’s this argument. Because in Katolis, we put cream on our scones, and then the jam. But in Evenere, and Duren, they put the jam on first. It’s a highly contentious point.”

Baelan looked like he wasn’t sure whether she was pulling his leg or not.

“People have gone to war for less, I s’pose,” Rayla said carelessly before attacking her meal with relish. Barius really was the best cook around – she didn’t miss moonberry surprise or Ethari’s soups quite so much when she was eating Barius’ food.

Ariadne scoffed. “We had a nearly war with Del Bar over a coin toss. Oh yeah,” she went on, looking at Baelan’s startled expression. “Two hundred odd years ago, the King was a moron who let his daughter run rampant. She made a bet with one of the Jarls and they tossed a coin. Everyone was talked down from it in the end, but relations between the kingdoms was at best uneasy for about seventy odd years.” She closed her eyes with a sigh. “We don’t talk about Princess Elwyn. Thank fuck she was only third in line to the throne.”

To Rayla’s mild surprise, Baelan laughed. “Something similar happened among my people a few centuries back. Let’s just say, it involved coral dodging – that’s basically when you take your canoe out over a shallow reef and race each other to the other side. Someone tried to cheat with a Primal Stone, and it ended with our harbour getting badly damaged. A lot of elves think it’s just an old, cautionary mage’s tale, but it really happened. A bit exaggerated over the years, granted, but mostly true.”

They continued to swap stories while they ate, and Rayla was grateful that Ariadne didn’t ask her any direct questions about her own culture. Even if she wasn’t still nursing the bruises her banishment had inflicted, Moonshadow elves didn’t usually share, even under duress. Instead, Ariadne tactfully included Rayla in their conversation, asking benign things like: “So do you know any good Xadian stories?”

Ironically, she could answer with tales from other elven Clans, because Callum never shut up when he learned something new, so she learned a lot vicariously through him. And Callum didn’t half arse anything when he set his mind on it.

The conversation came round to the rivalries within the Pentarchy, and when Rayla cracked a joke about the scones in Evenere, Ariadne rolled her eyes and tore a cinnamon bun in half. “I couldn’t _possibly_ comment.” She said dryly.

“I still think it’s weird.” Rayla insisted, washing down the last of Barius’ excellent baking with some mint tea.

Ariadne gave her the kind of look Rayla associated with wanting to say more than was allowed under the circumstances – a fairly common thing at Court, annoyingly. She glanced at Baelan before looking down at the bun in her hand. “I can’t really say either way. The King would like us to be a united front. I can’t be seen antagonising any one Kingdom in particular. Especially since we have representatives of said Kingdoms working in our very fine department up here.”

“Even if it’s against the laws a’nature?” Rayla asked slyly, not entirely sure how she would react.

Ariadne gave a bark like laugh of amusement before saying primly, “As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, what the medics and healers do in their free time, and to their food, is _entirely_ up to them.”

Feeling comfortable enough to push it a bit, Rayla asked lightly, “So what about antagonisin’ your own people?”

Somewhat predictably, the woman put on her politician face in response. “Are you referring to Alex?”

Rayla tilted her chin up and made a vague gesture with the hand that was holding her tea mug.

“Yeah…” Ariadne said slowly. “I wouldn’t put much stock by it. Before everyone arrived, he was kicking up a fuss about having to work with the guys from Neolandia. He’s just one of those people. He’s decided that he’ll never be happy about anything, so he’s constantly looking for things to be unhappy about.” She shrugged, washing her hands of the whole affair. “He has a reputation around here. If he _does_ kick up a big fuss, Dylan and I will fight your corner,” she promised sincerely.

Rayla settled back in her seat, going for outwardly nonchalant, while inside she was mollified. Ariadne didn’t pose any threat, seemed very on board with keeping the peace, but also blunt and aggressive enough that she wouldn’t be easily swayed or manipulated by external forces. Someone Rayla felt comfortable enough to come to for help or advice in delicate and political matters. In short, she could be comfortably classed as an ally.

After they had eaten, they gathered up the medicines, and Ariadne went to check with Brock before they left to deliver them. Rayla took the opportunity to ask Baelan how he was doing and how he felt about the exchange. He smiled a little nervously, and admitted, “There are the… _occasional_ confrontations, like you saw earlier. But,” he added quickly, “they are really few and far between. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m happy with how things are going in the infirmary.”

“Janai just wanted me to touch base with you.” Rayla explained.

Baelan laughed. “Maybe best to come back when everyone’s better. I’m not exactly representative of the group,”

Rayla had a feeling he was going to say more, but Ariadne came back, looking frazzled again and stating that they didn’t have any extra hands except for the two people from the apothecary waiting for them downstairs.

The rest of the afternoon was shaping up to be relatively hard work; the extra hands were a woman in her mid-twenties who appraised them all coolly, and a nervous looking boy who was sixteen if he was a day, and kept staring at Baelan’s dark, striking complexion, and the elf good-naturedly tried to ignore it. Ariadne took the lad aside before they left and said pointedly, “You know how it’s considered rude to stare at someone with a different skin tone to you?” he jumped. “I understand you’re nervous, but I expect you to be professional. Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Then let’s get going.”

The woman, called Harriet, kept herself aloof, but Rayla picked up on her nerves rather quickly. She did her best to be quiet and inoffensive, which went out the window when she came across Kora and Nate in the courtyard. As they were waving and whooping at her, an idea struck Rayla, and she glanced at Ariadne, who was discussing the best routes to take that would save them time and effort.

“Be right back,” she told Baelan, and walked straight towards the soldiers, who were heckling her good naturedly.

“And why does her Moonliness grace us with her presence, this fine and dreary day?” Nate asked, falling into an elaborate bow.

Rayla kicked at his ankle as she passed, so he nearly fell into the splits with a yelp. “To remind you to focus on your footwork.” She grinned and waited for Kora to stop laughing before she asked, “You guys free? The Medics need a hand with some deliveries. They got hit hard with the food poisonin’,”

Kora grimaced. “I’m on a double shift, and Nate’s got to go in ten minutes to cover Jenny’s guard duty. I’m really sorry,”

Nate had got to his feet, and was brushing himself down, when he caught sight of Matt and some of the older hands across the courtyard. “No, but I think I found someone who can,” he said, jogging off to intercept them.

The group had just come off duty, but were readily amenable, and after speaking to Ariadne the Medics agreed to wait for them to grab some food first. The rest of the afternoon went relatively smoothly after that; Ariadne managed to engineer it so that no elf got left on their own, and the twitchier humans were corralled into their own group. And as it turned out, the teenaged herbalist was really chatty after he got over his initial shyness. He talked Baelan’s ear off and asked lots of questions about Ocean magic, which the elf was happy to answer. Rayla was grateful he didn’t pester her with questions as well; she simply didn’t have the energy or the patience to spare. Some of the questions got just a bit personal as well, about his marks and the ornaments on his horns. Ariadne watched closely, turning away only when Baelan signalled that he wasn’t offended, and continued to answer the questions.

In Xadia, your marks were unique to you, and usually indicated your immediate family ties. Horns were adorned much the same way humans did with their ears; it was a form of self-expression, with certain things coding specific information to onlookers. In Moonshadow culture, a metal cuff at the base of the horns signalled the elf was in a committed relationship, for example. For Baelan, the fine strings of tiny, freshwater pearls interspersed with bright pieces of coral indicated the regions his family came from, and the pattern of beads indicated that he was one of Serena’s apprentices, close to the end of his formal studies.

All Rayla had were a couple of silver-plated bands, completely devoid of any imagery or stones. And she had barely even worn them, considering that she had spent so much time in Katolis. The thought made her feel very strange, and without Callum’s closeness, very exposed. She shook her head to clear it of dark thoughts, and threw herself into the job.

With a guiding, military hand, they got the most urgent medicines delivered first, and then divided the rest up between them and spread out across the castle and the First Circle of the capital. It was a lot nicer than Rayla anticipated, and ended on a high note at the house of the Stable Master just outside the Castle; the youngest daughter recognised Rayla and gave her a hug, and wouldn’t let her leave without a pile of the cookies and cakes they had made the day before. Rayla really liked her, she had some quality about her not unlike Ezran – a quick and deep empathy that made her brilliant with the horses.

Rayla gave most of the sweets to the soldiers to thank them for taking their time off to help out, and saved a cookie each for the medical team. The woman looked dubiously down at the confection, and the boy kept right on chatting away animatedly to Baelan, who bowed his head and thanks. Ariadne was already thinking ahead and planning for the following day, and as soon as she thanked Rayla her eyes got that far away look of deep concentration.

After they agreed on when and where to meet up tomorrow, and Rayla pledged her help again, they all left to go rest. Rayla thought about intervening when she saw how badly fatigued Ariadne was, but Baelan slipped an arm around her waist and shifted her weight off her bad leg.

“Occupational hazard of being a Healer, I’m afraid.” He said as they walked slowly across the main courtyard. “Everyone else’s needs come first. We can’t trust ourselves to be sensible, where we’re concerned.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t fucking start with me…” she grumbled.

Rayla started when Mattrim clapped her on the back as he walked by. “I’m on duty all tomorrow, but I’ll have a word with Kora. You tell either of us when the Medics need a posty, and we’ll make sure someone’s out here waiting for you.”

Rayla grinned and gently pressed her loosely held fist over his heart before he walked completely out of reach. “Thanks, Matt. I appreciate it.”

XOXO

For Callum’s part, it was one of the most boring weeks of his life. Even without Brock breathing down his neck, he just didn’t have the energy for spell casting. He poked at a few sketches, rifled through his bookshelves, and mostly meditated simply for something to do when he wasn’t sleeping. He kept applying the poultice to his chest, missing Rayla’s company; she was better at treating the wound than he was, and he missed the warmth of her presence. He knew it was for the best, that he would prolong the recovery if he wasn’t careful, but that didn’t alleviate his frustration.

When Brock deemed that he could have visitors again, he was ecstatic, and so relieved when his first visitor was Rayla. She looked tired, but so happy to see him, and didn’t complain when he overindulged in cuddles by the fire side. When she finally spoke, Rayla asked softly, “How are you feelin’?”

Callum chuckled, enjoying being close to her again as he pressed his nose against hers. “Bored out of my mind. How are you?”

Rayla rolled her eyes and gave him a tired smile. “I ended up with the Medics. You heard about the food poisonin’? They were so short staffed, and Amaya halted a lot of the military stuff, so when I went to go check on the Healers, I sort of ended up workin’ with them for a few days.”

Callum quizzed her a bit more, listening to her answers and mulling them over in his mind. It sounded like, for the most part, the elves were doing all right in the infirmary. It made him laugh to hear that Rayla thought Ariadne was a battle axe – the phrase had a different connotation in Katolis, but from a Moonshadow elf it was close to a glowing report.

When Rayla gave him a long-suffering look, Callum blinked and asked, “What is it?”

“I hate the politician face.” She sighed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

Callum held her, and stroked her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Just…no politics tonight? I just want to be with you.” She held him tighter. “I missed you…”

Callum was more than happy to oblige her. They stayed on the couch, curled up together in comfortable silence, for quite a while. Callum stroked her hair, kissed her ear, and then pressed gently against the base of her horns, and she relaxed completely against him with a satisfied groan. He thought about teasing her, but the memory of their last argument made him bite his tongue.

Rayla heaved a great sigh, and lifted her head from the crook of his neck so she could look him in the eye. “Would it be terribly clingy if I said I want you?” she asked dully.

Callum laughed softly, caressing her face gently, lips tantalisingly close to hers. “I missed you, too,” he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. He smiled when she sighed, and kissed him back deeply.

Feeling frisky, Callum gripped the collar of her tunic and leaned back until he was lying across the couch with her above him. Rayla responded by grinding her hips against his and fisting her hands in his hair.

“I’m on top,” she panted, biting his neck.

“Yes,” Callum breathed, running his hands up her sides.

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust me either…” he slid a hand inside her leggings and started caressing her intimately.

“Ahh _fuck_ ,” Rayla gasped as she arched her back. “I need you-”

“I’m yours,” he promised, and met her kiss with equal passion.

It took a few moments between the door being opened and Callum registering that they weren’t alone.

“Hey Callum, I hope you’re feeling better! I brought some-”

By the time Ezran saw them, and jumped and squeaked with alarm, Callum had managed to retrieve his hand from Rayla’s clothes. They stared at each other for a moment in horror, and Callum prayed that she didn’t jump up from the sofa. The only thing worse than his little brother seeing him making out with his partner was his little brother seeing him with an erection.

“Oh _c’mon_!” Ezran blustered at them both, red faced and even more embarrassed than they were. “You’ve been allowed to have visitors for five minutes! What’s wrong with you!”

Callum sighed and leaned his head back against the arm rest. Rayla collapsed in a heap against him and hid her face in his shoulder. He slid an arm around her back in a subtly defensive move before his mind caught up with the action, and he said carefully, “Ezran, this is _my_ living room.”

“This is _my_ Castle!” Ezran shot back, deeply embarrassed by the situation.

Callum put his free hand to his temple and sighed. “Ez-”

“You know what? _Fine_. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he dumped the box under his arm on the drinks table and legged it out of there as fast as he could, slamming the door behind him.

With a great sigh, Callum buried his face in Rayla’s hair, and for a long moment neither of them said anything.

“The Fates hate me.” She eventually mumbled against his neck. She scrubbed a hand over her face, like she was trying to wash the memory away.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think he was more embarrassed than us.”

Rayla poked him hard in the ribs, making him squeak. “Oddly enough, it doesn’t.” She spat at him.

Callum sighed again, trying not to laugh. Rayla could get really ratty when she was denied sex – that, and she was fiercely protective of Ezran, so being the cause of his discomfort was an unpleasant experience.

Rayla hummed, and as she shifted to sit up, she deliberately rolled her hips against his. Callum couldn’t supress the moan that fell from his lips. “My one consolation is that you’re still hard.”

They got as far as the bedroom, tugging each other’s clothes off, kissing passionately, when there came an urgent knock at the door. Rayla snarled with frustration and hung onto him.

“Ignore it,”

Callum sighed with exasperation when he heard Lord Tarren’s voice and more knocking.

“Two minutes,” he begged, and Rayla scowled at him but let go.

Pulling on his dressing gown and arranging everything carefully, and checking his hair in the mirror, Callum answered the door with a dispassionate expression.

“Prince Callum,” the man bowed deeply. “I hope you are much recovered.”

“Thank you. I hope your brother is feeling better, too.”

It was at that point that Lord Tarren noticed his state of dress, and his wind-swept hair. He really hoped his bottom lip didn’t look swollen, too.

“Is- this a bad time?”

“Did you need something?” Callum sternly ignored the way Rayla was glaring at them from the bedroom, and shifted himself so that Tarren couldn’t possibly see.

“I was hoping to talk to you about the reports-”

Callum bit down a scowl of his own and raised a hand to silence him. “It’s late, Lord Tarren. And I’m not on duty again until next Monday. If it’s pressing, you can talk to Lord Karim about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s getting late,”

“Of course, of course. Forgive the intrusion, Prince Callum,”

He was about to make one last pleasantry before closing the door on the Viscount, when Rayla slunk into the room and beat him to it with a slam that made Callum jump.

“Well that was rude,” he told her, and then yelped when she pressed him up against the door, her chest against his back.

“That is the last interruption tonight.” She growled in his ear. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and slowly pulled, exposing his throat to her teeth. “Get your arse in bed before I kill someone.”

Callum couldn’t move for a moment, and when she prodded him, he admitted shamelessly, “You have no idea how arousing it is when you say things like that.”

Rayla’s low chuckle in his ear had his heart racing. “Oh, do threats of violence turn you on? Prince Callum,” his title on her lips in this context only aroused him further. “I think y’need to stop lyin’ to y’self. You’re a masochist.”

Callum let her spin him around and pin him to the wall beside the door. “Only for you.” He murmured between kisses. “Oh Rayla…take me to bed,”

“With _pleasure_.”


	9. Deepening Roots

By mid-November, the Castle returned to normal. Everyone was much recovered after the spates of illness, and Callum liked to think the people of Katolis were more receptive to their Xadian guests. As well as Rayla running around with the Healers for a week, the elven soldiers had been lending a hand to help keep things ticking over, organising and distributing supplies, and covering guard duties when people were off sick. Sabah even ended up in the library helping out on reshelving day, through a series of fairly random events. She rather enjoyed the experience, and got heckled by her comrades on her return to the barracks, with Amaya teasing Janai about how, of all the things to lose one of your best soldiers to, it had to be _books_.

Callum was resigned to the sad reality that there would always be a naysayer, always someone casting aspersions – but for the most part, everyone was happy, if not simply getting on with it. And while there was occasional friction, everyone Callum spoke to felt that there were plenty of humans around who had their back. He got to see for himself how the soldiers and warriors looked out for each other. A blacksmith from the city decided to make some rather unpleasant, sideways remarks to a group of Earthblood warriors outside the communal dining hall. He tried to walk away with a cocky spring in his step, and before Callum could intervene, Rayla grabbed his arm and just nodded after him, saying, “Watch.”

A Katolian soldier, flanked by a Del Barian colleague who had their arms folded and was frowning heavily, spun the guy around forcefully and looked him right in the eye before asking in a low, dangerous voice, “You got a problem?”

Before it could escalate into a fight, Gren ran in to defuse the situation. Callum managed to casually get involved with the conversation afterward, and one of the warriors admitted it wasn’t a rare occurrence, but the other soldiers were looking out for them, and everyone in the Castle by that point had more or less stopped caring about sharing the space with the elves.

With the mounting goodwill and cooperation going on, Ezran suggested a new kind of social function, one that wasn’t politically motivated. Just a bunch of people, both human and elf, in a room with some food and drinks and a few boardgames, and having fun. Callum and Rayla dropped the idea within the circles they were moving in, and it seemed a relatively well received concept. So they organised a time and date, found a big enough room to accommodate everyone who wanted to join in, and on Ariadne’s suggestion made it a communal buffet, with individuals and small groups each contributing food and drink. Some of the Tidebound elves referred to the practise as a potlatch, and the name just seemed to stick.

And the first night was an overwhelming success; there was such a variety of food laid out, from every corner of the continent, and lots of different types of drinks available. In Brock’s words, it was impossible to feel homesick or bored with a spread like that.

The best part for Callum was taking a step back from the conversation and leaning against the wall for a few minutes, just watching as he slowly sipped his drink. A few people were playing a strategy board game on a table, and a group of elves were arguing heatedly about which was the best card game to teach the humans, while said humans (mostly soldiers, and being egged on by Soren) were laughing. Turning towards the fireside, he saw Ariadne chatting away animatedly with Aibeck, Mjrn, and Dylan; Rayla was wrestling with one of her soldier friends, and they were shouting at each other over the heckling from the others around them. Ezran was playing a furious round of Sunfire Hold’em with Janai while a crowd of onlookers watched with fascination. Glancing at the door, Callum saw Gren watching the room with a pleasant smile while Corvus took a brief break to sign with Amaya, the pair of them laughing and grinning about something Callum had missed.

Looking down into his glass, Callum took a deeper draught and smiled to himself. It was going quite well tonight. He looked up when Baelan approached with a young teenager, who was wearing typical Katolian clothes but spoke with a distinctly Durenese accent, and they both asked him about Moon magic. He happily fielded their questions, and sent the youngster on to Amren, who had far more experience on the topic she wanted to discuss than he did. Callum hung round long enough to break the ice between them, but once the girl started asking specific and smart questions about magic, the Moon Mage was more than happy to indulge her curiosity.

Rayla walked by as Callum bowed out of the conversation, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Did he just pilfer one of your students?” she asked teasingly, nicking Callum’s goblet and helping herself.

“Nope. It was by design.”

Rayla snorted with laughter and finished his drink for him. Before he could complain, she went and got them both fresh drinks, and they meandered their way towards the hearth hand in hand. Callum sat down on the very end of the couch, and Rayla perched comfortably on the arm rest, still holding his hand. He was listening to the Sky mages at the other end of the couch bicker about the relative merits of thunder versus lightning spells, but Callum turned his full attention to Rayla instantly when her fist clenched reflexively.

Someone was asking Sylvie, who was sat cross-legged on the hearth rug, about Runaan, and Rayla was staring fixedly at her cup. Callum squeezed her hand, searching her face, and while she closed her eyes and didn’t turn towards him, she squeezed back.

“Didn’t you train with him or something? The Dragonguard?” the Earthblood elf was asking Sylvie.

She stared at him uncomprehendingly for a long moment, before it clicked into place. “Oh. Yes and no.” Callum always marvelled at her accent; it was beautiful to listen to, almost more like singing than talking. “I did and I didn’t. I did train briefly with Runaan, but I think you’ve got him mixed up with his friend Lain. _He’s_ the one that got into the Guard,” her gaze slid across the room, and she suddenly noticed Rayla’s close proximity. Callum smiled pleasantly at her, and raised his glass in greeting, which she mirrored. “Yes,” Sylvie said slowly and carefully, turning back to the one who had started the conversation. “They were good warriors.”

“You must have some funny stories.” The elf went on, either not noticing Rayla or not realising who she was. “What were they _like_ at that age?”

Sylvie, in a rare show of open emotion, put a hand over her face and caved in on herself as she struggled not to laugh. Taking a deep breath, she straightened herself up, looked Rayla right in the eye, pointed at her, and said, “You do _not_ repeat this to him, you hear me?”

Rayla gave her a flat look in response, and Callum could feel the tension in her body. He ran his thumb slowly and inconspicuously along the side of her hand, and it eased just a little.

“Oh, don’t leave us in suspense!” the other elf pleaded. “What happened?!”

Hem was sitting on the other side of the rug, sketching something that Callum couldn’t see from this angle; he made a mental note to go and ask about it later. The young Moonshadow elf lifted his head and spoke with a tone of voice devoid of emotion. “I have a feeling I know which story this is.”

“Your cousin was a right piss artist in his youth.” Sylvie said, still trying to contain her mirth.

Hem pulled a face and went back to his picture, refusing to look at anyone, especially Rayla. “Yyyyup.”

Rayla blinked, leaned back a bit, and raised an eyebrow. “Runaan? _Drunk_?” she asked in disbelief. She was very mindful of how he had hurt Callum’s family, so she didn’t mention him very often, but from the little she had said in the past, as well as what little he had witnessed for himself, Callum had the distinct impression that Runaan was as straight laced and as big a stickler for protocol and rules as Opeli. The idea of the big bad Moonshadow assassin being drunk was kind of hilarious.

Sylvie smiled sidelong at Rayla, and look back at the elf who had asked the initial question. “So I was at the Silvergrove for part of my trainin’. Runaan and Lain were bright sparks in their class, but I had little to do with them for the most part. One night I was on guard duty at the barracks, and I noticed Lain runnin’ round the shadows,” she gestured with her hands a fair amount more than most Moonshadow elves would in casual conversation with strangers. “Wouldn’t tell me what he was up to, so I just kept an eye on him over the evenin’. So, _eventually_ , Runaan rocks up well past moonrise. And he’s pissed as a newt. So, I’m stood there, watchin’ this idiot come back to bed _well_ past curfew, and his friend is absolutely tearin’ him a new one. So, as you can imagine, they got into an argument that just kept on goin’ round and round in tight circles. Honestly, Rayla. I don’t know how your da didn’t punch him, it was so infuriatin’ to listen to, and I wasn’t even the one talkin’ to him. Kept insistin’ that he wasn’t even drunk. So, eventually, Lain throws his hands up in the air in _complete_ exasperation,” she demonstrated with her own. “And says, ‘Aye, you fuckin’ eejit, can you even tell the time?!’.” She paused for dramatic effect, and Hem put his face in his hand in despair. “And I kid you not, the elf walks right up to the water clock in the corner, totters there for a moment like he’s about to fall in face first, and says very loudly: ‘ _I_ am _not_ drunk!’.” A lot of people gathered around them started laughing at Runaan’s expense. “The _look_ on Lain’s face was _absolutely_ priceless. Just…the perfect mixture of love, despair, and I’m gonna straight up _murder_ you in your sleep.”

Aibeck walked past at this point, and caught the tail end of the story. “Well,” he said bracingly, offering a pitcher of wine around to refill everyone’s glasses. “It’s true what they say, isn’t it? S’not true love if y’don’t threaten t’murder ‘em every so often.”

Callum couldn’t help but laugh at this statement. It was so very typical of their people, and with the number of times Rayla had threatened him as such over the years, it was impossible to hold it in.

When several pairs of eyes turned in his direction, he raised his glass in a salute and said, “Well that would explain a lot,”

Everyone laughed, including Rayla. She threw her head back and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Callum grinned, glad to see her truly happy, and leaned into her touch when she bent down and kissed the crown of his head, her fingers unconsciously playing with his hair. It was an overt display of public affection, far more so than a Moonshadow elf would be expecting. If Rayla noticed the way Aibeck looked at her quizzically, she didn’t show it, and the others all tactfully looked the other way as the conversation moved on.

Maybe it was the wine she’d had, or that Callum simply hadn’t been around Sylvie often enough to get the measure of her, but she seemed a lot more lively and forth coming than the rest of her kin. By the time Rayla and Callum left to get some food, she was conversing quite energetically, with a Tidebound elf from one of the marshland clans and a couple of scholars from Del Bar, about dugout canoes. Callum took the opportunity to tap Hem on the shoulder, making him jump a bit, meaning to just inquire politely about what he was drawing – but it was an incredibly detailed, beautifully designed Draconic knot motif. And both being artists they were instantly sucked into an animated discussion about it.

When it came to magic or art, Callum couldn’t help but get excited; and he had yet to see Hem so fired up about anything. Callum barely noticed that Rayla left him to it, got some food, went and yelled a bit at Jenny, and then came back to him with more food, and just stood there with a sardonic smile while she waited for him to notice her. He felt just a bit bad, but shuffled and smiled shyly when she just rolled her eyes and pinched his cheek.

“Nothin’ gets between you and a good sketch.”

Hem ducked his head out of the way and gulped. Wanting to alleviate his anxiety, Callum said warmly, “It’s absolutely amazing! You’re so talented,”

Hem gave him a sidelong look, scanning him up and down like he was trying to fathom something. Then he gave a rueful smile and said, “First person in my family for…generations, who wasn’t a warrior or a smith.”

“The world requires beauty, just as much as it does protection,” Callum said, in the boy’s native language, which pulled not just Hem, but Aibeck and Sylvie up short.

Rayla rolled her eyes again, and slipped Hem a little pastry before she hoicked Callum away from all the stares. She passed him another pastry, and he examined it more closely. “Baby jelly tart!” he exclaimed. “Ari’s been on a rampage.”

“They’re not Barius’ jelly tarts,” Rayla said sagely, as though she were a jelly tart connoisseur. “But they’ll do.”

True, they were a lot smaller than Barius’ jelly tarts, fitting snuggly into the palm of Callum’s hand, and they weren’t perfect equilateral triangles either, but they were still pretty good. And they looked a whole lot better than the blobs they used to craft as children.

Callum pouted theatrically at the culprit as he took a big bite while she was walking towards them. “Strawberry,” he said in dismay, waving what was left of the little pastry at her.

Ariadne spread her arms wide. “We didn’t have any persimmon jelly or jams! And it didn’t occur to me to deploy Rayla until the damn things were already in the oven.”

“I doubt Barius would’ve given up the persimmon jelly anyway.” Rayla said flippantly.

“Ehh,” Ariadne flicked a hand vaguely at her. “This was my contribution to the potlatch. That, and my grandma’s cookies.”

Callum’s eyes went wide. “There were cookies?” Ariadne’s maternal grandmother had been a senior cook, and she had been just as good as Barius in her day. A handful of recipes had been handed down to her grandchildren, and they guarded them all just as jealously.

Ariadne gave him a regretful smile. “All gone, sorry. I’ll try to make more for December. By the way, my cousins are looking for you.” She added with a grin, pointing over her shoulder. “Last I saw, Sam was messing around with the instruments with Seb.”

Ariadne had two cousins on her mother’s side, and three on her father’s; the maternal set were like Adila, and pretty formidable with politics, but as goofy as the twins, and a riot at parties. Sam’s gender was very fluid, and they were referred to as ‘The Sibling’ by all the cousins. Callum picked Sam out from the crowd by their striking make up and brightly coloured tunic, and after a massive hug because they hadn’t seen each other for about six and a half years, he formally introduced Rayla. There was about ten minutes of hectic running around while Sam and Seb both went to go find Sam’s sister, and Rayla turned to Callum with a quizzical look.

“So I know I’m not an expert,” she said with a wry smile as she pointed at Sam’s retreating back. “But that make up looks very feminine to me.”

Callum chuckled. “It’s probably an effeminate day today. Sam’s gender changes a lot, it’s not fixed.”

“Ohh,” Rayla nodded slowly in understanding. “That make up is quite impressive,” she added.

“Just wait,” Callum grinned. He was regaling her with stories of Sam’s artistic exploits, most of which involved school plays, when their sister swooped out of the crowd to press him into a tight hug. He had to bend down because Annabelle was so petite; both she and Sam had the same heart shaped faces as their aunt and cousins, with dark hair and deeply tanned skin.

“Adila’s right,” she lamented, tilting his chin from side to side. “You’re so much taller.”

Callum laughed. “You should see Ez. He’s huge,”

Rayla was again introduced, and the conversation was fairly innocuous for a while. Sam ended up on the periphery, chatting enthusiastically away with Rayla and a couple of other elves, asking about their marks and the dyes they used. Callum turned towards them with a crease of concern on his brow when he noted that Aibeck and one of the Earthblood warriors looked a bit uncomfortable with the up-front questions about such a personal thing as one’s marks. Rayla caught Callum’s gaze, and flicked her eyes for a moment across the rest of the group. Ariadne had descended once she knew her brother was being a nuisance, and her presence assured, if nothing else, that anyone who asked or said something inflammatory would get eviscerated. Rayla turned back to Callum with that smirk that meant it was all under control, just as Ariadne cleared her throat loudly.

“Sam.” She barked. “You know that’s a personal question to ask a complete stranger?”

“Oh,” Sam jumped a bit, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m terribly sorry-”

“It’s fine.” Rayla waved it away with a wry grin.

“Cultural nuance.” Baelan added with a warm smile. “I’m more than happy to answer your question, though.”

Callum turned away from them, satisfied that any friction had been eased, and distracted when he heard the word _Verdeshire_.

“So, tell me,” Annabelle was asking as Adila poured her some more drink. “Who’s the unlucky bastard in charge of that mess?”

Callum coughed self-consciously. “Err, that would be this bastard – me, _me_. I’m the unlucky one.”

Annabelle turned her big dark eyes to him, wide with alarm, and then she smacked a hand to the side of her face. “Oh. Oh Callum, you have my deepest sympathies.” She said with a wince.

Sensing the opportunity to get some reliable intel, Callum casually led Annabelle aside, waving at Rayla to let her know where he was going; she waved back vaguely, stuck in the middle of a heated argument with Aibeck. Callum sat down at one of the tables against the wall with Annabelle, who had a quiet word with Adila, and the older woman disappeared into the crowd. She returned with one of the apprentice smiths, who had family in the main town in Verdeshire, and they had a long conversation about the situation there.

It really just boiled down to nepotism. The incumbent Councillor had run unopposed, was the only child of the richest and most influential family in the county, and just didn’t understand how the real world worked. He had only recently taken over after the death of his mother, and he was struggling with the demands of the role.

The smithy, a guy named Jack who was built like a mountain and incredibly soft spoken, suggested that the Councillor either needed some mentoring for his position, or should be removed in favour of someone more experienced. That sparked a debate about the relative pros and cons, and how that reflected on Callum. The last thing he wanted was to flex his political muscles and go around meddling with internal affairs – he might own the land but he wasn’t directly involved in the county’s governance. While they were mulling over the possibilities, Annabelle caught her sibling’s eye and beckoned them over.

“I need you to apply your fiendish mind to something for us.” She said when Sam reached them. She explained the situation, and Sam promised to think about it over some wine.

In the meantime, Callum sat back and watched with amusement as Rayla continued to argue with Aibeck. He checked the rest of the room occasionally, and chuckled to himself as he beheld his aunt and her partner doing a very exaggerated version of a Sunfire waltz to some upbeat Del Barian music. Nia was in a quiet corner giving a bunch of humans and elves a lesson in Sky magic, the wind vane getting passed around. Serena was deep in conversation with one of the Court musicians. Ariadne had caved and sat down to rest her leg, chatting away with Seb and Baelan over a plate of cakes.

Callum’s gaze came back to Rayla, who was turning away from Aibeck with a scowl, and her eyes settled on the contented smile on his face.

“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” she snarled as she stomped by.

“Nothing,” Callum chimed, taking a sip from his cup of water.

“That’s what I thought.” She growled menacingly.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow.

“She does that.” Callum said vaguely.

“She’s spent too much time around Ari.” Was all Annabelle would say on the matter.

Callum was about to speak, when Sam materialised by their table again. “Okay, I’ve given it some thought,”

Callum glanced at Rayla again, and saw her dismay that he had his politician’s face on again. He smiled at her apologetically, wanting to sign at her that he would make it up to her later, but not wanting everyone at the table knowing what he was saying since they were all proficient at sign language.

“What do you suggest?”

“So,” Sam pulled up a chair beside Callum’s. “Start by sending a letter to check the supplies arrived, are they enough for their needs, blah blah. Then send another one saying that you just want to check he’s all right, coping with his duties on top of his mother’s loss – do your thing and fill in the blanks with your empathy. Something really innocuous and inoffensive and add you’d like to help out more but duty calls down here. _Then_ , send another one saying, oh by the way I have a gap in my schedule, would you like me to come over and properly introduce myself? I can give you a hand while I’m here. Just…gently box him in with kindness, and then back him into a corner.”

“Do you really think it’s necessary for Callum to go in person?” Adila asked with a slight frown.

Sam shrugged. “We could go round in circles forever. I reckon it gets the point across if the Duke turns up in the flesh to see to everything.”

Jack lifted his glass and said, “I think it would reassure the people to know that they haven’t been forgotten. The last letter I got from my parents – the feeling in the town is that they’ve been forgotten about.”

“So…” Annabelle said slowly, looking from him to her sibling, and finally to Callum. “Engineer it so that either way, whether he backs down, asks for and accepts help, or blithely ignores everything Callum says and does, the people still see their landlord cares about them.”

Sam nodded. “The softly, softly approach will probably work best. The guy’s an immature idiot who’s never had to step up or be responsible for anything before. Being blunt or aggressive will make him double down. Nudging him in the right direction will let him save face and make him more open to the idea of necessary changes. Sending a series of letters gives him enough time to react ahead of the visit so he’s not put completely on the spot.”

Callum looked down into his cup, thinking it over. “Thank you, all of you, for your input. I’m grateful for your help.”

If Callum did go in person, it would have to be soon, before the Solstice. He had promised Ez they would have a solid ten days at the Banther Lodge without _any_ kind of political distractions – just family time. After that, prep work for the Summit would crank up, and they’d have even less time together. Callum also needed to give the Verdeshire Councillor some time to prepare for a visit; a couple of weeks would do, but he needed to be in the Capital for the Queen’s Memorial service at the beginning of December. This was too important to put off for long, so Callum needed to plan and time his moves carefully.

“Right, now that _that’s_ settled,” Sam threw their head back and drained their glass. “Let’s get hammered. Seb!” he raised his voice as he stood up.

“Yeah?”

“Fresh horses, man! And be quick about it!”

“Absolutely, my lord!”

Sam strode off into the crowd, and the remaining cousins exchanged looks. “They lasted a lot longer than I thought they would, decorum wise.” Annabelle mused.

Adila just watched the pair of them with exasperation.

Rayla leaned over Callum’s shoulder, making Jack and Annabelle jump. Adila was a bit more used to Rayla’s stealthier antics by now, but she still raised an eyebrow to mask her momentary alarm.

“If I hear the words ‘Ragnar the Red’, I’m mutinyin’.”

“You’ll have to get in line behind Ari.” Annabelle said airily, recovering her composure with a little shake of her head.

“On that leg? Pfft. Please,” Rayla scoffed, casually leaning her elbow on Callum’s shoulder, her arm draped across his chest. When he raised a hand to squeeze hers, she gently pressed against his scars. “She can _try_ to catch me,”

Adila looked affronted, but she turned her ire onto her cousin, who burst out laughing and couldn’t stop for quite a while. Ariadne, being the incredibly clever and quick-thinking person she was, heard the commotion, looked up, and slotted the pieces together. Rayla waved at her jauntily, and Ari made a rude hand gesture at them all before signing to Rayla specifically, rather succinctly translating some Moonshadow curses into Katolian Sign Language, something loosely along the lines of: ‘fuck off sell sword’.

Callum pinched Rayla’s hand and signed at Ariadne as he said out loud, “ _Enough_ , the pair of you.”

Soon after, Callum thanked the others again for their help in the matters with Verdeshire, and got up to make one last round of the room before departing for the evening. He was halfway through the exercise when he remembered that, strictly speaking, he didn’t _have_ to at this function. But he did it anyway, because he was there now, and everyone seeing him engaged and interested in the goings on wouldn’t harm diplomatic relations. It also gave Rayla enough time to slip away before him, so that their combined absence wasn’t _quite_ so conspicuous.

When Callum finally did leave, he walked back to his rooms, unsurprised as he passed a shadowed alcove and found a hand slipping into his.

“You look tired.” Rayla said simply, her face expressionless.

“I feel it,” he admitted. When he knew he was being put to bed for a week, he had started taking the tea Nia had given him to dull his dreams, because he didn’t want to face a nightmare without Rayla. It was kind of stupid and counterproductive, and he was unpicking the consequences now, but it was done now and couldn’t be changed. If his dreams _had_ been prophetic, he had put himself back to square one; Nia had casually asked after his progress towards the start of the evening, and accepted his vague and probably poorly disguised answer.

“You goin’ to your county, then?”

“It’s not _my_ county.” Callum griped at her, cheeks going red.

Rayla gave him a sly smile, and pressed herself against his side. “ _Sure_ it isn’t. You just own the land everyone lives on,”

Callum sighed, and gave her a beleaguered look. She laughed, and wrapped her arm around his waist. Back in his rooms, Rayla made him sit down and put the kettle for tea before plonking herself down beside him. As was often the way between them, it started with a tender look and a soft kiss, and ended with Rayla pressing him into the couch as she bit his neck, grinding her hips against his with abandon while the kettle whistled in the background.

Just as it was occurring to him that the kettle needed saving, Rayla gave him a playful grin and poked his nose before she sprang to her feet and went to deal with the tea, leaving Callum spread eagled on the couch cushions, panting with lust. He sat up slowly with a groan of frustration, and graciously accepted the mug she handed to him. They sat for a while in mostly companionable silence drinking their tea, and Callum pressed his cheek against Rayla’s hair. She flexed her fingers around the mug in her hands, staring at it intently, and Callum smiled into his own cup as he took one last mouthful. As he predicted, Rayla swept both vessels out of their hands onto the table, and straddled his lap in one smooth motion, fingers finding their way into his hair.

“Sometimes I think you have a problem.” He murmured as she kissed from his chin down his throat.

“Yeah. I fell in love with an idiot with a title.” Rayla lamented, cradling his head in her arms and kissing the crown of his head. She pressed her cheek against the place where horns would have been, and sighed deeply. “If you’re pushin’ off for who knows how long, I’m makin’ the most of you while I still have you.”

Callum snuggled into her embrace, content for the moment to just be close to her, and knowing she wanted a bit more than that. A thought had occurred to him while he was talking to the others, and this felt like the right moment to bring it up.

“Do you want to come with me?”

His eyes went very wide when he saw her predatory smile, and he moaned as she very deliberately pressed her hips against him. “Always,” she purred against his neck, just below the ear.

Breath coming in a shaky laugh, Callum put his hands on her sides and gently pushed Rayla away to create space enough between them where he could think straight. Rayla obliged by taking a step back and sitting on the drinks table, sweeping the teacups aside carefully without looking, and resting her elbow on her knee, chin propped up in her hand. The smile she gave him was quite contrite, but still very much aroused.

“I’m serious,” Callum told her earnestly as he leaned closer, resting his fingertips on Rayla’s knees. “Come with me to Verdeshire. If the Councillor is really that ineffectual, I should be able to tie up the loose ends really quickly. Then we can spend some time together, away from the Castle,” he was going for the wicked kind of smile that from Rayla would have made his heart race – but it was probably more likely a mushy, squishy kind of smile, judging from the soft look in her eyes. “Think of it as a vacation…”

Rayla snorted with laughter. “Yeah. _Right_. Because that went so well last time,”

“Think about it,” he took her hands and pressed his nose against hers, letting himself get lost in her gorgeous eyes. “No courtiers or politics, or Amaya breathing down your neck. No little brothers dropping in on us unexpectedly.” He kissed the very corner of her mouth, and enjoyed the way her breathing hitched as a result. “And there are a lot of fields and woods to explore around the town. Lots of trees to string me up in…”

Once upon a time, Rayla had dared Callum to have sex with her in a tree, just because. The experience had been a lot more pleasurable than he had anticipated, and Rayla liked to threaten him with the idea of a second round every so often. Dangling the prospect of letting her tie him up in a tree was just as arousing to Callum as it was to Rayla.

Not that she would ever admit it. She gave him a cool expression as she took his chin in her hand, looking him right in the eye. “No politics whatsoever?”

“Well, I’d still have to deal with the County Council, but it wouldn’t be for too long.” He smiled at her glum face. “And if I can sort everything out quickly, we’d have a couple of days, just the two of us.”

Rayla took a while to consider his proposal, and he knew her mind was made up when her gaze slid from his eyes to his mouth. “I reserve the right to drag you out of their meetin’ hall at moonrise, regardless.”

“Deal.”

“In the evenin’s you are _mine_.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Rayla’s eyes flashed, and he knew he was in for it now. The feeling settled comfortably in his belly with anticipation. The smile she gave him was kind of devastating; she slid onto her knees on the floor between his legs, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Fluttering her eye lashes innocently at him, she murmured, “And what does my lord ask for in return?”

Callum closed his eyes and kissed the corner of her mouth again. “That my fair lady makes me scream. And she’s on top.”

Rayla bit his bottom lip hard. “You’re on.”

XOXO

The prospect of a long weekend away with Callum was actually quite exciting, though Rayla’s enthusiasm was soon tempered when she remembered the reason for his visit to Verdeshire in the first place. That, and the fact that his departure was delayed until the fourth of December so that he was present at Queen Sarai’s memorial ceremony. Every year on her birthday, Katolis celebrated her, and her sacrifice so that they and Duren could survive the famine. The immediate family held a small private memorial, which entailed visiting her statue and leaving an offering of her favourite sweets. It was a nice way to remember the dead, Rayla thought. Like everything else Katolians did, it was far more emotionally overt by comparison to the way she had been raised.

It _did_ cause just a bit of friction with some of the visiting Xadians, which luckily were squashed down before Rayla could get her hands on the culprit.

One Tidebound elf asked, somewhat arrogantly as she played up to the stereotype of haughty indifference to human suffering, “So they’re asking us to just accept that this woman killing a defenceless magma titan deserves celebrating?”

Before Rayla could fly into a rage, Brock stepped in, noticing how a lot of people were bristling at the elf’s words, and said very calmly, “Please remember that both Katolis and Duren were on the brink of starvation. And perhaps, had Xadia not been so hostile or indifferent to their plight, maybe we could have afforded them the help they needed, so they would not have had to resort to such measures in order to feed their people. Then perhaps _no one_ need have died. Please remember who’s house you are in, and that more than one child lost their parents that day.”

The elf was smart enough not to argue back, and noticed that a couple of Durenese diplomats were watching her closely, so she melted into the background at the first opportunity and kept her head down for the rest of the week. She wasn’t the only one to be unhappy with the situation, but luckily the rest of them took the hint and didn’t complain about it openly.

Ezran kept the Castle celebrations to a minimum out of respect for their visitors, and while his reasons were accepted, that didn’t curb the soldiers or the townspeople from their own festivities. Sarai had been very much loved in general and well respected by the army; it was impossible to stop them from organising their own celebration on the side. When asked about it by a concerned elf, Ezran just smiled blandly and shrugged a little helplessly, citing that he couldn’t force his people to not throw a party when off duty, if that’s what they wanted to do.

Rayla was really worried about the boys, and tried to give them both as much of her time as she could. Ezran just smiled sadly, thanked Rayla for her concerns, and confessed that he felt worse for Callum; at least his older brother could actually remember her. For his part, between the impending memorial and the task of going through Viren’s notes, Callum fell apart three days beforehand. He disappeared for a full morning, and no one knew where he was; by the afternoon, some of the attendants were getting twitchy about his absence, and while everyone assumed he had gone to ground somewhere, Rayla looked to the sky instead.

Eventually, after a lot of running around the ice slicked roof tops, she found him at the top of the astronomy tower, shivering under his cloak because he had used the mage wings spell to get up this high. Rayla had to wait a long time for him to be ready to speak, and when he did, her heart quivered painfully for him.

“I hate him.” Callum said simply, gesturing uselessly with his hands. “I hate him so much. If he was still alive, I’d probably kill him. I don’t think I can keep going through those journals.”

Hesitantly, Rayla swallowed and asked, “Do you _want_ to talk about this now?”

Callum let his breath out in a shaky laugh. “No. No, I don’t. That bastard was planning…it’s so sick, how much _effort_ he put into it,” he was working himself up into a complete state, and Rayla didn’t know how to bring him back down. “Viren was planning it almost from the beginning! His Queen was dying in his arms, and he _took_ her last breath from her! Who the fuck has the presence of mind to even think about that!” he grabbed the sides of his head and rocked forward with a grimace before bringing a hand down to clamp over his wound. “Never mind how incredibly important the last breath is in Skywing culture…”

“What do you mean?” she asked with a frown, the subtle nuance going over her head.

Callum gulped, taking a deep breath, unable to look at her. “It’s the last thing we share with each other before death. Whoever we are, we all breathe the same air. And he…” he slowly imploded before her eyes. “He just took it. And dad was _stupid_ enough to-!”

It was too much to hold on to all at once. Callum put his face in his hands and wept.

Rayla wrapped him up in her arms, pulling her own cloak around him to try and shield him from the bitter wind. There was no point trying to reason with him; Callum was probably one of the most rational people she had ever met, and right now he was speaking purely from a place of emotion. All he really needed was permission to let it all out, to just be the mess he felt inside.

She did the only thing she could do, and that was to hold him close and tell him, “I hear you,” while he cried.

“I miss them. So much…”

“I know.” She said simply, kissing his hair.

Rayla did what she could to support him that week, and did everything in her power to hide her mounting guilt. Her own parents were alive, returned to her, and they had barely seen or spoken to each other since. Callum’s parents were dead, beyond his reach forever. And he’d spent so many hours calming her down from fits of anxiety about her own family…

The day before the memorial, Rayla found herself up in the infirmary again, just pottering around at the end of the day while most of the healers and medics clocked off for the evening. Ariadne was still around, with a Sunfire elf she had made friends with and who loved a well organised bookshelf as much as she did. It turned out Kiara was Kazi’s cousin – Rayla probably should have guessed, the family resemblance was strong, and she was a book worm. And incredibly compassionate and empathetic; she listened closely while Ariadne aired some of her own grievances. Rayla tried to make noise as she moved boxes around and reshelved some textbooks, but she couldn’t make too much noise while washing up without risking broken glass, and she couldn’t shut her ears.

“I just…” Ariadne was gesturing uselessly with her good arm, the other hand pressed to her temple. “I don’t know what to do. There’s only so much tact I can spare before I lose my patience. And I know I complain about Seb _constantly_ , but I don’t actually want to hurt his feelings.”

Kiara mulled this over for a while before speaking, giving Rayla a brief glance.

“If I didn’t want her to hear I wouldn’t have said anything in the first place,” Ariadne assured her.

Rayla threw a hand into the air and waved vaguely. “Don’t mind me,”

Kiara chuckled, and went on hesitantly, “Does Seb _know_ what he wants to do?”

She shrugged. “I still think childcare, or teaching, would really suit him. I just…I really resent him interfering with my work. Being a medic, on the admin team…it’s the first thing I’ve ever done as just me – not Lady Jila’s girl, or Adila’s little sister, or the idiot twin’s other half. I _do not_ want to spend the rest of my life as part of a matched set.” She gestured helplessly. “I’m ready to grow the fuck up. And I feel like Seb isn’t, and he just can’t accept this is my choice.”

It looked like it was really bothering her, and Kiara got up to go to her chair and give her a hug. “There’s no easy way of dealing with family, is there?” she said, patting Ari’s wrist and adjusting the glasses on her nose. “You mustn’t let him sway your course, though.”

“I know. I just wish he didn’t make my life so difficult.” She shrugged. “Sorry guys, rant over. Let’s get this crap packed up and start again tomorrow.”

Kiara was the first to leave, giving Ariadne one last hug, and before Rayla could follow, the human asked, “You want a cup of tea or something?”

Rayla gave her a satirical look over her shoulder, and she went to get the kettle without a reply.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Considering the description Callum gave of how Moon magic works,” she looked up from the stove she had poked back to life. “You’re not that subtle.”

Rayla collapsed into a chair in a huff, giving up any pretences she had had that evening.

“Also mostly because I had Callum up here yesterday freaking out about your feelings.”

“What?” Rayla said sharply, pulling herself upright.

“I could slap you both.” Ariadne said airily, putting tea leaves into the mugs. “He’s worried about over burdening you, and that you’re feeling guilty, and he’s making it worse.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” Rayla snarled.

Ariadne snorted with laughter. “I’m going to go out on a limb here, and suggest that you’re feeling kind of the same way?”

Rayla scowled at her. She hated being read so easily by a relative stranger. She glared at the mug of tea when it was handed to her for a long moment. Then she sighed and blew to cool it down a bit before taking a sip.

“We’re both idiots. I know that.”

“Both too empathetic for your own good.” Ariadne sniffed. With a sigh, she added, “He puts _way_ too much pressure on himself. Got all the time and patience in the world for everyone else, and struggles to accord himself the same compassion.” She fixed Rayla with a look. “I get the powerful impression that’s your big problem, too.”

“Miriam whisperin’ in your ear?”

“Actually it was General Amaya.” Ariadne told her. “That, and I couldn’t help but form an opinion after having you in here for a whole week.”

Rayla paused, intrigued and a bit nervous. “What did she say?”

The look Ariadne gave her wasn’t _quite_ calculated, but she was carefully weighing her words before she spoke. “Just that you both bring out the best in each other. And asked me to keep an eye on Callum. He always wobbles a bit this time of year. I don’t have a complete picture of the last five or six years, but I figure there’s a lot of things still to process.”

Rayla regarded her for a long moment, before she ventured the truth.

“I feel guilty. My parents are alive, and I don’t know where I stand with ‘em. And he’s always supportin’ me through it. And I can’t return the favour.”

Ariadne gave her a wary look, which made Rayla scowl. “I’m going to be brutally blunt. There’s nothing that can be done for Callum’s parents. They’re dead.” Her expression was calm and even keeled even as Rayla glowered at her. “Callum knows that. He’s more concerned about the living. The things we _can_ change.”

Of course he was. She could really quite cheerfully throttle him most days.

“It’s…complicated, with m’parents.”

“You – really don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to.” Ariadne told her. “Just as much as you can, if you do.” She shrugged flippantly and focused her gaze on her tea. “I know I can be quite acerbic at times, but I’m told I’m a good listener when people need it.”

Rayla considered this for a moment before deciding to push it. “What do you know about my banishment?” she searched the woman’s face for her reaction.

Ariadne flushed and looked away touching her right arm with apparent discomfort. “I didn’t ask Callum. I heard a couple of things along the grape vine…mostly Aibeck,” she admitted sheepishly as Rayla stared her down.

“What did he say?” she asked flatly.

Ariadne shrugged with an uncomfortable smile. “Not a lot that made sense. I don’t think he’s used to voicing his internal conflicts. I know he feels guilty, and I don’t think he knows how to express it. Just that he feels awful about what happened, how it reflects badly on the whole community…”

Rayla sighed and looked down into her mug for something to do. Her reflection looked back at her, and she couldn’t help but remember the last time she had been in the Silvergrove; a Ghost to her people, unable to see or be seen except in reflections, not able to hear Ethari’s voice or to hold him…

“Moonshadow elves are all about oaths and duty. The Dragonguard left their posts. M’parents were the only ones who stayed to fight for the Dragon Prince. So when Viren captured them, everyone assumed they fled too. Far as everyone knew, they broke their oath. They were as good as dead to us. And then I messed up the mission when I first came to Katolis, and when everyone else was thought dead except me, I was banished too. If I go back now, no one will see me and I won’t be able to see their faces.”

Rayla wasn’t entirely sure why she was telling Ariadne all this. But her expression was still even and calm, and she nodded slowly as she listened, taking small sips of her tea.

“I just…feel awful for what I did to my parents, and guilty for feelin’ bad for m’self when our people did it to me.”

Ariadne sighed and put a hand to her temple. “You’re both idiots,” she said under her breath. “Just because we all fuck up from time to time doesn’t mean we don’t deserve compassion for ourselves. No wonder Callum freaks out over your well-being.”

“You’re point?” Rayla asked wryly to cover up her thumping heart.

She got a sardonic look in return. “One thing I’ve learnt over the years, is that our culture can cloud our judgement of the bigger picture. Your people thought you had betrayed them, yes? And what you were actually doing on a grander scale was everything in your power to bring peace – for _every_ one. Not just them.” She shook her head, shoulder dropping with fatigue. “I’m sorry if this is offensive, but if they can’t get their shit together and find it in them to admit they were wrong and apologise, then the fuckers don’t deserve you. And it’s more fool them, to lose such a bright spark.”

Rayla didn’t really know how to respond to this. It was one thing to have Malra admit as much in her own words, or for Callum to tell her she was worthy of forgiveness. Hearing it laid out so bluntly by someone so far removed from the situation, was actually quite heartening.

“Have you…spoken to your parents, at all?” Ariadne asked carefully.

“Yeah.” She drank some more tea before elaborating. “I sent them a letter. Eventually. And Ethari, but he sent one to me first.” She sighed heavily. Thinking about Ethari hurt.

“I’m not sure who that is…?”

“M’parents’ friend. He and his husband looked after me when they joined the Dragonguard.”

Ariadne’s expression finally became fixed, and when Rayla poked, she said reluctantly, “The assassin’s husband?”

“Yup.” No point in hiding it.

She had finally cracked Ariadne’s armour. The woman had to look away to gather herself. “I’m going to ask not to talk about him. I understand your connection to him, and I acknowledge he was just doing his duty, like everyone else. But…” there was genuine, deep seated pain in her face, and Rayla remembered that she called the late King ‘Uncle’. “While I can be pragmatic about the political context, my friends lost their father. I can’t be very rational about that.”

“Fair enough.” Rayla conceded, appreciating her honesty. She thought about trying to crack a joke at Runaan’s expense, but didn’t think it would be welcome.

Ariadne shook her head slowly, gripping her mug tightly. For a moment Rayla thought it was because of Runaan, but then she said, with a slightly vicious edge to her tone, “Viren’s such a bastard.”

Rayla shrugged uselessly. “Yeah, he is.” There wasn’t much else to say, really. If he were still around, he would have an awful lot to answer for.

They finished their tea in amicable silence, and Rayla washed up the mugs before walking Ariadne back to her quarters because of the late hour and the way her leg was shaking. She smiled wanly, rolled her eyes, and thanked Rayla for her consideration.

“Thanks for the tea. And the conversation.” Rayla shot back at her.

Ariadne gave her a wry smile. “Any time. You know where I am.”

Rayla went up to Callum’s rooms, and found him still up but sleepy and thinking about bed, surrounded by paperwork. She wrapped him up in her arms, trying to wordlessly convey everything she was feeling, and he held her close in kind.

“Do you…want to stay the night?” he asked hesitantly.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” he murmured, kissing her cheek.

Rayla slept fitfully that night, in part because thoughts kept chasing themselves around her mind, and also because Callum was restless. Every time he tossed and turned, she woke up instantly. She almost shook him awake at one point, because he seemed to be having a nightmare, and his skin was overly warm to the touch. A gentle caress to his face, soothing the crease on his brow, seemed to be enough to alleviate his distress, but he still jolted awake in the small hours of the morning with a gasp, once again waking Rayla up.

Callum just held her, lying stiffly in the same position for a few minutes in complete silence before he dragged himself up to write down in his dream log. Once that was done, he flopped back onto the covers with a great sigh, pressing against his closed eyes. Rayla shuffled closer, laying her head on his shoulder, and closed her own eyes when he nuzzled up against her.

“Sorry…” he mumbled helplessly.

Rayla lifted her head, pressing her nose against the pulse point in his neck. His heartbeat had returned to normal again, as had his breathing rate. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone, saying simply, “I love you.”

It made her smile when he buried himself in her arms, wordlessly reciprocating the sentiment.

XOXO

The following morning, Katolis woke up to the smell of baking, as it did every year on this day. The humans who were working closest with the elves were tactful about the celebration, downplaying it to more of a festival for sugared goods, but as Ariadne pointed out to anyone who asked, Queen Sarai would have preferred it that way.

Rayla went with Callum and Ezran to the memorial service for moral support, and stood beside Janai as the family lit mourning candles and left a beautifully stacked plate of jelly tarts that Callum had fussed the whole morning over on the plinth of the late Queen’s statue. Rayla would have felt very out of place if it weren’t for Janai’s presence, and Callum’s insistence that he wanted her there with them.

Due to the nature of the celebration, Amaya and her nephews got the day off from duties, and they spent it mostly in seclusion from the rest of the Castle, while everyone else enjoyed the array of baked goods on offer.

The lead up to the day had been painful and stressful, but the day itself was actually quite pleasant. Callum had taken the suggestion from multiple sources to have a complete break from sorting through Viren’s notes. While Bran kept going, Opeli had assigned him a couple of assistants who would eventually report back to Callum, but for now she had taken over the project. It was one less thing to fret over, and not constantly looming over his shoulder and reminding him of the past.

After a lunch of excellent, fluffy muffins and some extra honeyed pastries, the group sat down at Callum’s table to play cards. Ezran and Amaya weren’t especially mature, so they started making wagers with the big plate of jelly tarts Barius had supplied them with. Janai raised an eyebrow as she watched them argue heatedly and silently over the issue of Ezran eating the bargaining chits during the course of the game, and Callum dropped out in favour of drawing. Rayla grinned and egged everyone on, pausing every so often to check on Callum. He just smiled at her, and handed her another jelly tart when Amaya and Ez weren’t looking. She broke it in half and held one out to Bait, who chose to slurp up the half she held closest to her. Rayla scowled, wiping her saliva covered hand against her tunic, and picked him up to look him right in the eye.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” She growled before she plonked him down in front of her and rubbed his belly.

“Oh no!” Callum lamented, clutching his heart. “I have competition!”

Rayla gave him the kind of satirical look that made him beam. She looked down at the glow toad between her arms; tongue lolling, belly full, practically _oozing_ contentment as he glowed.

“I couldn’t _possibly_ comment,” she said at last, grinning when Callum put his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek lovingly.

Callum looked up in time to catch Janai’s eye, who was looking away from Ezran attempting to wrestle his General into submission. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before Callum cleared his throat and tried to bring order back to the table.

“She started it!” Ezran complained loudly, getting thrown over Amaya’s shoulder easily despite how much taller than her he was.

“Yeah, and the Archmage’ll finish it.” Rayla retorted somewhat smugly.

Her expression stuck in Callum’s mind for the rest of the day, and when they were eventually alone that evening, he brought it up with her.

“You don’t like bein’ flaunted?” she asked innocently as she checked over their bags for the early start in the morning.

“Actually, it’s kind of flattering.” Callum admitted with a smile, feeling the heat creep up his neck. When he had lost his mother, his confidence had been shattered; it had taken years to piece it back together, and it hadn’t really solidified until Rayla had stared at him in blank astonishment and called him a mage. Everything had been up from there.

“Hey…you okay?” Rayla asked gently, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah.” He said softly, reaching for her hand, which happened to be the left one, and kissing the inside of the wrist. “Just thinking.”

“Do we need to do big feelin’s time?”

Callum chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Nah. I’m just so grateful for what I have.” He kissed her mouth tenderly.

Rayla sighed and leaned back slightly. “You need t’ shu’up.”

“Do I?” he smiled wickedly.

“Unless you want to risk traumatisin’ Ez.”

“How about this,” Callum said fairly, taking the extra water skins from her and stowing them in the saddle bags. “We check the bags one last time, and have an early night, and when we reach Acton, I’m all yours.” Rayla threw herself across his lap and kissed him passionately, fingers tangled in his hair. “Is that a yes?”

“No. I totally don’t want to bonk your brains out. I just thought I’d snog ya for m’own amusement.” Rayla told him in a deadpan tone, unable to keep the sparkle of mischief from her eyes.

Callum gave her a flat look, and she rolled her eyes with a snarl.

“Fine. _Yes_. I want sex. Happy now?”

Callum grinned unrepentantly. “Yes.” He leaned down and kissed her, still splayed across his lap, stroking her dear face as she deepened the kiss.

Callum jumped out of his skin as the door crashed open. “Hey Callum, I just need to check with you about the-” he yelped and jumped rather comically on the spot. “C’mon! You’ve been alone for five minutes!”

Rayla put a hand over her face and hid against Callum’s chest.

“Don’t you _ever_ knock?” Callum spat back, knowing his face was probably bright red. “And it’s _my_ rooms.”

They continued to bicker with each other, even as Callum went over the paperwork Ezran had brought him. Rayla scowled and sulked and slumped herself across the sofa in a huff while they threshed out the last-minute details, both still embarrassed.

“Are you two done yet?” Rayla grouched from her place on the couch while the pair of them shuffled through the papers.

“You get Callum for a whole weekend. You’ll live,” Ezran sniped back.

“Guys,” Callum heaved a great sigh, feeling tired already. “C’mon.”

Rayla was still grouchy after Ezran had left, red faced and stuffing the papers into his pocket. Callum stroked her hair, and when she folded her arms and scowled up at him from the couch, he kissed her cheek.

“I’m going to bed.” He told her simply, and left her to it. He smiled when he heard her slinking into the room as he was pulling the covers back. By the time he was nice and comfy, Rayla slid under the blankets beside him and snuggled up against his side with a theatrical yawn. He brought a hand up to stroke her hair gently and kiss her temple. He was expecting a quip, or a smile or something, but Rayla gave him a searching look in the low light. “What is it?”

“You okay?” she asked tentatively. “It’s been a rough week. And you’re off tomorrow to deal with an idiot in power.”

A slight frown creased Callum’s brow as he rubbed at his chest. “Do I look that bad? I don’t feel any worse today,”

“No,” Rayla shook her head. “It’s just…you always check in when I’m stressed out.”

It was Callum’s turn to shake his head, and he nuzzled closer. “Thank you. But I’m okay. Sifting through those journals the same week as the memorial probably wasn’t the best combination.”

They lay in silence for a while. Rayla cupped his face with one hand and kissed his cheek before cuddling up closer, and Callum kissed her nose in response. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes, which was a fatal mistake, and soon they were kissing deeply. Callum slid over her leg so he was above her, and paused when she pulled back and looked up at him, holding his face in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” he breathed, worried he was getting too far ahead of himself and misreading signals.

Rayla blushed, and tried to pass it off as nonchalance. With a shrug she said, “You’re the one always frettin’ over consent in emotional situations.”

Callum laughed softly, pressing his brow against hers. “We don’t _have_ to, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to…” she murmured.

“Me too.”

What was past was past. Nothing could be done to change what had happened, but they had the chance to make the future even better. And if she were here now, he knew his mother would be proud of them. As he kissed and groped his lover with abandon, he felt certain that she was his future; when the Summit was done with, he was going to broach that subject with her. He loved Rayla so much, and he doubted he would ever find someone who understood him so well, who drove him to do better and be the absolute best that he could.

“Callum,” Rayla murmured.

“Oh Rayla, I love you.”

“Wait-” she gave his shoulder a shove, panting a little. “The sponge,”

Callum snapped his head back and blinked, flushing.

Rayla gave him a hard look. “Stop lookin’ so fuckin’ appealin’.”

“W-whut?” he stammered, wide eyed.

Rayla pulled away from him, and he sat back to give her more space. She stomped over to the dresser to pull out the contraceptives. “When you look at me like that,” she sighed dramatically. “I don’t know how I keep m’hands to m’self.”

Callum slid out of bed to follow her, and wrapped his arms around her waist as she prepped the sponge. He went out of his way to distract her with kisses and caresses, and she stretched out her neck to invite him closer as she worked.

“Anyone would think you wanted somethin’.” She mused with feigned innocence. She bit her lip when Callum took the liberty of scraping his teeth down her throat. “Can I help you, my lord?”

“I love you so much,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“Will you do the honours?” she asked, holding up the sponge, eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation.

Callum took it from her and spun her around to face him, as though they were dancing. He kissed the knuckles of her left hand tenderly, and lifted his head to meet her gaze. “It would be a _pleasure_ , my lady.”

XOXO

The fourth of December dawned grey and cold, and despite the advance notice of his departure, and the duration of his absence, Prince Callum was still dodging people first thing in the morning.

The stables were buzzing with activity by the time he and Rayla got there, and they passed a few minutes chatting to the healers and medics who were slowly organising themselves for their trek they had decided late last night to go on at short notice – because why not? That, and there was a rare type of fungus that Brock had noticed growing in the area that sprouted at this time of year and under these weather conditions, and he wanted some samples.

Rayla rubbed Pebble’s forelock while Io nosed around his tail; Ariadne rolled her eyes and proclaimed dramatically that she’d just given up. Rayla turned to look at Malra with a bright smile, and the other elf just rolled her eyes and tried once again to get Io’s saddle on.

When Callum ran down the aisle, looking almost frantic, Rayla tore herself away from what she was doing.

“Go, go, go!” Callum hissed, skidding to a halt beside his horse and trying to mount up with the stirrups all wrong, and subsequently almost falling off.

“What is it?”

“Lord Tarren’s found me!” Callum squeaked, trying to detangle himself.

Ariadne leaned around, and looked first at the main doors, and then at the two mounts by her side. “Can I borrow Io?” she asked Malra. In response to the searching look she got, she added, “I just want to create a distraction. It’ll only take a sec,”

Malra looked the Moonstrider up and down. “Your funeral.” She shrugged.

“C’mere, Pebbs.” Ariadne crooned, leading the docile giant towards the doors.

Once Rayla had Callum safely in the saddle, she leapt up onto her own horse and saluted Finn as they walked past.

“Take care,” the stable hand called.

“You too,”

Ariadne held a hand up to detain them long enough for Lord Tarren to get into range, and then she smacked Pebbles on the rump. He obligingly trotted out into the main courtyard, followed by Io, and as the Viscount saw the Moonstrider approaching, he yelped and scrambled backwards with alarm.

In the ensuing confusion as Ariadne called out loudly, “Oh! Lord Tarren! How good to see you. Sorry about my horse, he’s made a new friend,”

While everyone was staring at the Moonstrider, who was chewing docilely on Pebble’s tail, Rayla and Callum urged their mounts out of the stables and towards the main gates as stealthily as they could. By the time the courtyard was cleared, and the medical team was getting their act together, the pair of them were crossing over the bridge out of the Castle, leaving the bewildered Viscount behind. Jenny reached up to smack Rayla’s gloved hand as they passed each other at the gates, both of them grinning at Tarren’s expense.

“Have a good one!”

“Keep the other’s in trouble while I’m gone!” Rayla called back.

“You can count on it!”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Callum begged, pulling his hood closer around him as they got to the end of the bridge. “I told him I was leaving later in the day. _How_ did he _know_?!”

“Intuition.” Rayla suggested, nudging her horse to go faster as they reached the road. “Or paranoia.” She added with a sly, sideways smile.

Callum met her gaze with a gulp. “I’m scared.”

“Aww, is the Archmage afraid? Does he need a cuddle?”

“I need to get out of here before someone drags me back to the throne room kicking and screaming.”

Rayla leaned away from him and scoffed loudly. “Drama Prince.”

Callum shot her a pleading look as a small group of travellers eyed them curiously. Their cloaks were plain, and Rayla’s hood was up to hide her distinctive profile, but her accent was kind of a give away if you knew what to listen for.

Back inside the castle, Jenny was still chuckling to herself as Lord Tarren ran around, hopelessly lost as he failed to find Prince Callum. The medical team were just marshalling themselves into readiness to leave as well, when the Crow Master came scuttling over, looking perplexed and a bit jittery.

“Hi,” he said nervously, seeing a couple of elves with white hair and making a bee line for them. “I’m looking for Lady Rayla.”

Aibeck turned around and looked the guy up and down. “What for?” he asked, not quite aggressively, but not in a friendly way either.

“I- erm, I have some mail for her.”

“Everything okay?” Ariadne asked lightly as she staggered over, the diversion she had created having taken a toll on her leg.

“Ah, Lady Ariadne.” The Crow Master bowed politely, glad of a more familiar and friendly face; Aibeck and Malra were watching him closely like sentinels, and it was an unnerving experience. “Forgive me, but I’m looking for Lady Rayla.”

“You literally just missed her.” Ariadne told him. “She’s on a security detail, and won’t be back until next week.”

“Oh. Oh dear,” he pulled a face and shuffled awkwardly.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, keeping her tone even.

“Well,” he wrung his hands and shuffled again. “It’s just that…one of the letters that came for her has this seal,” he showed her the bound message, which had the symbol of the Dragon Queen on it.

Ariadne didn’t immediately recognise its importance, but the elves did. When Malra pointed it out, Ariadne asked, “I mean no offense, Sir. But shouldn’t mail from the Dragon Queen be handled by the Crow Lord?”

“He’s on annual leave today.” Came the response.

Ariadne sighed and put a hand to her brow. “Of _course_ he is…”

“And I’m not authorised to redirect it for security reasons. How long is Rayla away for?” he hedged hopefully.

“Give it to Lady Opeli. I’m sure she’ll make certain Lady Rayla gets it as soon as she returns.”


	10. Verdeshire

The journey to Verdeshire was really enjoyable; just the two of them on the open road, like the good old days. Except without bouncing baby dragons, younger siblings, or the impending sense of doom that had dogged their every step during the war.

Rayla couldn’t make good on her threats to string him up in a tree and have him at her leisure along the way, though not for lack of trying. It was just too cold out, and Callum would not stop squeaking and jumping out of his skin every time she touched him under his clothes. So they agreed to confine it to the bedroom for now, and hurried along the road to try and get to the main town before nightfall. The cold weather kept people close to home, if not completely indoors, and the lack of war meant they could move swiftly and out in the open, so they made excellent time.

Acton was much like the rest of Katolis; a decently sized town surrounded by arable land, interspersed with orchards and wilder woodland, and currently dusted with a layer of snow. To the east were the foothills of the mountains that ran alongside the Divide with Xadia. There was even a lake about an hour’s ride north of the town, fed by mountain streams and teeming with fish during more productive seasons.

Looking at all the natural resources around them, Rayla found it hard to believe the county had required assistance to make it through the winter. Then again, it was part of Moonshadow culture to take just what you needed, to share whatever you had going spare, and to always be conscious of how you were utilising your resources. Runaan had drilled it into her to the point that she could weigh out fruits and nuts by hand and know the rough nutrient content, and whether it was adequate for the health status of the person who would eat them.

It was kind of amazing how much of a mess it caused when things were mismanaged.

The town itself was a mismatched mosaic of slate grey and red brick houses, laid out in a series of rough, concentric circles, with two main roads intersecting in the middle, going from northeast to southwest, and northwest to southeast. Every window had a box underneath it, and most front doors had at least one big plant pot beside it; spring must be a riot of colour. The few people who were out and about in the chill of the early evening looked at the pair of them with mixtures of curiosity and alarm as they trotted through the streets towards the main meeting hall in the northern quarter of the town. Being used to such attentions, Callum smiled and waved as they rode past, not quite realising that his plain clothes made him look somewhat not like a Prince, even if his bearing and behaviour said otherwise.

A child of about ten years old stopped in the road and gawped openly at Rayla. She was used to kids reacting like this, so she smiled and waved. An older brother came running and grabbed the girl, yanking her off her feet and heaving her out of the way. He pressed his back against the wall of the nearest house, holding her tightly to his chest and watching with wide, fearful eyes as the horses passed them by. The girl looked bewildered, and protested when her brother tried to avert her gaze.

Rayla tried not to frown, and resisted the urge to pull up her hood. Callum waved directly at the guy and called, “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” he shot Rayla a look of concern, and she rolled her eyes without moving her head as she smiled wryly.

Kids usually found Rayla really interesting once they got over the initial shock of seeing an elf for the first time. It was always the adults that freaked out the most. She realised she had been getting complacent hanging around the royal castle, where elves were more commonplace and therefore not an unknown, scary quantity.

Someone was standing outside the town hall, shivering with his hands jammed into his armpits to try and keep warm. His nervous smile was more like a grimace as they dismounted, which put Rayla on edge. The last letter had warned them very politely and innocuously that the Prince would be visiting with an elf in tow, so they shouldn’t be completely unprepared for her. It was hard to tell who frightened the young man more; he sketched a skittery sort of bow to Rayla, and tried to kiss Callum’s hand in a _very_ archaic display of reverence for the royal family (something that was generally considered outdated, and made Callum and Ez deeply uncomfortable).

Callum smiled pleasantly, introduced himself and Rayla, and asked for the guy’s name before commenting on how beautiful the town was at this time of year. He had that guarded, politician’s face on – the one with the bland, inoffensive smile, and she could practically see the gears in his head turning as he listened to the reply. Rayla did her best to look just as innocuous as she took the reins of both horses and looked over the saddle bags.

“Councillor Aiden would like to invite you to dine with him, this evening,” said the assistant, whose name was George.

“Thank you. What time would he like us? We need to see to the horses and set our things down, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

George’s gaze flickered to Rayla and back. She got the distinct impression that he was viewing her as the help more than a security guard. “Is half past seven agreeable with you, Your Grace?”

“Yes, we’ll be ready by then. Thank you,” the man looked surprised when Callum turned to Rayla and asked politely, “Shall we go to the inn?”

“Yes sir,” she responded, equally politely.

Whatever she was doing with her face, Callum put together a gargantuan effort to not burst out laughing. He had to cough to cover it up and straighten his voice out before he spoke again, refusing to look the Councillor’s assistant in the eye. They managed to get out of hearing range before they could bring themselves to look at each other, and they dissolved into giggles, bumping shoulders and resisting the urge to wrap an arm around each other.

Rayla had seen this idiot fall flat on his face – both figuratively _and_ literally – too many times to count. He was a far cry from the traditional human expectation of a Prince, being clumsy and a day dreamer. Standing there, looking pretty and calling him ‘sir’ with a straight face was fucking hilarious to her. And, while he was royalty, the knowledge that she completely owned him in bed just added to her mirth of referring to him with an honorific.

At the inn, the stable hand was quite surprised to see the Prince tending to his own horse. The only available stalls were rather far apart, so Rayla worked quickly to get her horse settled before hurrying back to Callum. They chatted while he brushed his mare down and faffed around with the feed; Rayla watched the woman staring at them from a dark corner of the stables. The fact that the guard made no move to assist him was apparently more shocking than the fact that said guard was an elf. Rayla would not have helped Callum out on principle – he was an adult and perfectly capable of doing his own damn chores. She would have never let him shirk shared camping duties during the war, but he was considerate and conscientious to a fault, so she had never had to complain beyond the bread incident.

Rayla lifted his packs off the floor as he closed the stall door and secured it. He smiled at his mount, giving her a loving scratch before he turned to Rayla again, holding his hand out for his bags. She passed them over, and they walked towards the doors together, mindful to stay at an appropriate distance. Rayla tilted her head just enough to see the stable hand’s expression, and she seemed completely floored.

Good, she thought to herself wryly. Let the people here know that their Prince and landlord wasn’t a spoilt, entitled brat, and that he was prepared to carry his own weight.

The inn was a large, squat building that was overly warm inside; the walls were panelled with honey coloured wood, and a pack of dogs roamed freely. A couple trotted over to them, tails wagging, and they both bent down to pet them.

“Do you like dogs?”

Rayla looked up to see a boy of maybe six or seven years watching her. Then his eyes moved to her horns, and his jaw dropped for a moment before he collected himself and stood up straighter.

“Yeah. What’re their names?”

The boy’s eyes went wide again at her foreign accent.

“He’s…” he pointed at the spotty border collie. “He’s Fred. And that’s Geoff.” He pointed at a mongrel who was probably a Labrador crossed with something like an Alsatian.

“Aww, you’re a right cutie, aren’t ye?” Rayla cooed, giving Geoff a good scratch under the chin. He whined and snuffled closer, probably looking for treats.

“Ah, you must be Prince Callum,” the inn keeper was crossing the room, a hand held out in greeting. “Welcome to Acton, my Lord.”

“Thank you,” Callum gave him a genuine smile as he reached out to shake hands.

Rayla was distracted by the boy as he stumbled, a large and very shaggy looking dog of a breed she didn’t recognise having head butted him in the back. She pointed at the offending mutt and asked, “So who’s this one?”

“Lillian.”

“That’s a pretty name. I’ve never seen that breed before, what is she?”

The boy squinted at her, like he was trying to puzzle her out, which amused Rayla quite a bit. “She’s a Newfoundland.”

It was a testament to Rayla’s dedication to being diplomatic that she didn’t roll her eyes; humans gave things the _weirdest_ names.

“My Ma says she’s part dog, part bear.” He added.

Rayla laughed. “I see the resemblance,” she held out a hand, and Lillian looked at her levelly. Another dog bounded over and licked her hand instead, and got a scratch behind the ear. “I’m guessin’ your name is Spot!” she told the dog, who was snow white but for a smattering of large spots, one of which was around the left eye, and another on the right ear.

The boy giggled. “He’s called Scruffy.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Scruffy.” She gave the boy a smile. “And what’s your name?”

“Cain.”

“I’m Rayla,” she held her hand out to him, and he took it automatically. Then he looked at it in awe, and she tried not to chuckle.

“Do you really have four fingers?!” he asked excitedly.

That was a contentious topic at the castle right now; the last day Rayla had been in the infirmary helping out, Brock had had to referee a furious argument between Ariadne and an Earthblood elf over how many fingers everyone had. The human maintained that _humans_ had four fingers, and elves three, because _thumbs_ were absolutely not the same thing as a finger.

Semantics aside, Rayla held her hands up and wiggled her fingers so the boy could see. “Yup.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “That looks weird.”

There was no malice in his tone, just blunt wonder, so she rested her arms on her knees where she crouched, and gave him a wry smile. “I thought the same when I met m’first human.”

Cain’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned at her. “Do you really know Prince Callum?”

“Sure do.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in Callum’s general direction. “He’s puttin’ up with me this weekend.”

Cain looked like he was about to ask something else, but a stout woman came bustling up from the back of the inn, and shooed him away. “Cain! For goodness sake, don’t bother the guests with questions! Go do your chores in the kitchen!”

“But I already-!”

She spoke over Cain and gave him a hard look, so he slunk away in defeat. “I’m so sorry about my son, I hope he didn’t offend you,” the woman said in a rush.

“No harm,” Rayla said lightly as she stood up, petting one of the dogs whose name she didn’t yet know. Cain looked over his shoulder one last time, and beamed when she winked at him.

Lillian trotted over to Callum as he was following the inn keeper towards the front desk. “Please pay the kitchen boy no mind. Cain’s a…let’s say _precocious_ child,”

Before Callum could say anything in response, the great shaggy dog-bear reared up and put her paws on Callum’s shoulders. He was mid-step, pivoting to follow the inn keeper, and so had little balance. He fell onto the floor in a heap with a yelp, and then squealed as the dog started licking his face.

Everyone in the room froze for a long moment, and Rayla just about contained her laughter. She walked over, shoving the dog aside good naturedly, and put her arms under Callum’s from behind so she could drag him to his feet.

“Thank you,” he winced slightly, touching his scars briefly. “And who is this again?”

“Lillian, I believe, your Highness.” Rayla couldn’t keep the smirk off her face, and Callum gave her an ironic smile.

“Hello, Lillian. I’m pleased to meet you, too!”

At least he didn’t use his terrible ‘Xadian’ greeting. Ethari continued to humour him whenever they saw each other, and she dreaded what her parents and Runaan were going to say when they had the chance to meet the real Callum without the pressure of war or politics.

Rayla looked at the inn keeper with a careful smile, and nearly burst out laughing at the dumbstruck look on his face. Clearly, the people in this town had had a preconceived notion of what Prince Callum was like, and she was very much looking forward to watching that image being repeatedly shattered.

After that, they were given their keys and shown to the rooms they would be staying in. It was a nice, comfortable set up, and the inn keeper apologised for it being so plain and humble, despite Callum’s assurances that it was perfect seeing as it was just the two of them. It was two bedrooms and a bathroom, joined by a small but comfortable sitting room. More honey coloured wood, warm blankets and cushions scattered all over the place, with vases of dried flowers placed strategically around the room.

When they were finally left alone to unpack, Rayla walked across over to where Callum was disgorging the contents of his satchel, and wrapped her arms around him. He turned to embrace her, and she kissed his cheek.

“Did y’hurt anythin’?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” he gave her a rueful smile. He chuckled, eyes bright with amusement. “I know that face.”

“What face?” she asked dully, thinking about the stupid dinner they had to go to.

Callum gave her a frustratingly chaste kiss on the lips. “I promise, after dessert, I’m all yours.”

Rayla scoffed and rolled her eyes, holding him out at arm’s length. “Please,” she started towards the bathroom door behind him, and reached out to smack his backside as she went. “You _are_ dessert.”

“Rayla,” Callum said in a warning tone, sounding much more like a Prince, and making her insides turn to mush. “We talked about this. We have to _pretend_ to be professional.”

“Ugh!” she threw her hands up dramatically as she stomped towards the wash basin.

They picked rooms in the spirit of professionalism, knowing full well they were going to be sleeping in the same bed anyway, and then washed up for supper. Rayla begrudgingly pulled on her second-best tunic, the one that hid her swords well, and stared hard at her reflection, wondering if she should try bothering with a little make up. She chose not to because she couldn’t be bothered, but also because Callum hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek. “That colour suits you.” He told her simply, and that decided it for her.

Callum himself pulled on a red tunic, and spent ten solid minutes inwardly debating about whether or not to wear his circlet. In the end he chose not to, and buried it at the bottom of his pack. At the Castle, it would have been a sign of how much weight and importance he placed on these meetings; here it was more likely to be viewed as a power play, which he wanted to avoid.

“Done?” Rayla asked sardonically, arms crossed and sitting on the arm of the sofa.

“Yup. Done. Completed.” He said vaguely as he shuffled through his satchel for his sketchbook.

“Err… _what_ y’doin’?”

“Looking for my pencil box,” he replied in that same, vague, faraway tone.

“Your Highness,” Rayla raised her voice a little. “You do know the time?”

“It’s the fourth of December.”

“As in _seven twenty-five_?”

Callum jumped, dropping the pencil box so its contents scattered everywhere. “Late! We’re late,”

Rayla rolled her eyes and followed after him, picking up his cloak from the table as he ran around frantically trying to find it. She threw it over his head and told him, “How Ez puts up with you at Council meetin’s, I’ll never know.”

“I know where everything is at home,” he griped at her, pulling his cloak on.

Rayla smoothed it across his shoulders and straightened out the clasp before she kissed his mouth. They stayed there for a long, wonderful moment before she pulled away. “I’m gonna die at this dinner.”

“No you won’t,” he smiled indulgently. “You’ll sit there, looking absolutely stunning, and make me look really good,” his playful smile became more sultry as he took her left hand and brought it to his lips. “And then, as promised, you’ll get to drag me back here and have your way with me until moonset.”

“Don’t taunt me,” Rayla whined. “We have to get through the main course, first.”

It wasn’t _that_ bad, really. Councillor Aiden was broadly built but somewhat underdeveloped in musculature, and he was understandably nervous. Despite Callum’s request for a vegetarian menu, which was easier to cater to for a Moonshadow diet, there was a lot of red meat on the table. Rayla tried to reserve judgement, but she got the powerful impression that the man thought chiefly of his own desires and needs first, and anything else was slapped on as an afterthought. His poor management skills had led to the county needing to rely on hand outs from the capital – it was kind of hard _not_ to be judgey.

Rayla mostly sat in silence while Callum did his thing and made small talk with the table, doing his best to include everyone and put them at ease. That wasn’t hard, because Callum was just such a likeable person. The elf sitting to his right was probably a complication, but he included Rayla in the conversation, giving her plenty of room to dip in and out as she felt comfortable.

As well as Councillor Aiden, there were a couple of his cousins, their children, and his closest advisors and their families. The youngest was a twelve-year-old boy who sulked most of the main course, but kept looking at Rayla with open curiosity. The eldest of the children was a haughty looking guy maybe a bit younger than Callum, who looked like he wasn’t overly impressed with the Prince because he was so mild mannered and accommodating instead of brash and commanding like himself.

The conversation was mostly the inoffensive kind of small talk you could find at Court. Callum avoided pointed questions for now, but Rayla could tell he was gathering his thoughts together for the following day, digging up nuggets of information here and there to better understand the situation he was dealing with. It was all standard political stuff, really dull and boring. Rayla tried to keep up with the conversation, while keeping an eye on the other people around the table for potential threats, and tried not to dwell on what they were going to do when they went to bed.

Dessert eventually came, bringing an unexpected surprise. It was a kind of pie made from fruit and berries, served with cream, and Rayla’s eyes went wide at the taste. It was almost, _almost_ but not quite like Moonberry Surprise. The taste was close enough that it took her back to her childhood; Runaan making the dessert for her every year on her birthday, and despite his lacking talent with cooking, it tasted better than the stuff from the bakery because of the effort he always went to over it.

“Everything okay?” Callum asked, trying to keep his tone light, but concern leaking into it nonetheless.

“It tastes like Moonberry Surprise.” She blurted out, still in awe.

“Really?” Callum asked, a little dubiously as he poked at the helping on his plate.

The Councillor cleared his throat, and in that pompous way self-important people often had, said, “It’s a speciality of the region.”

Callum took a bite, and his eyes went googly wide. “It _does_ , too!” he said excitedly, turning to Rayla with a grin, and she couldn’t help but beam back. That was her Callum: deliriously excited over the little pleasures in life. “Wow, Ez would _love_ this. What’s it called?”

Aiden blinked over his steepled hands, and the cousin to his left coughed loudly, her face rather scornful. “Verdant pie.” She said, like Callum’s demeanour wasn’t to her liking.

“What’s in it?” he was way too absorbed to care much for her attitude, and listened intently as one of the advisors rattled off a list of ingredients, and then proceeded to drone on about the history of the dish.

The youngest kid looked like he wanted to plant his face into the table, and Rayla took pity on him. “Quite the history lesson,” she said lightly, taking a sip from her wine glass.

The boy looked at her suspiciously, like he anticipated mockery. “It’s a pie. What’s there to know about?”

“It’s an important part of our regional history and culture.” One of the other cousins said, and the girl beside him slumped deeper into her seat. Clearly, Rayla wasn’t the only one wishing to be elsewhere this evening.

“I bet Xadia’s history lessons are _way_ more interesting.” The younger boy said, giving her a searching look.

“Ehh,” Rayla shrugged, inspecting her glass more closely. “Not really. Lots of names, battles and whatnot t’memorise. Except all the monarchs are dragons.” She glanced at his face, and was pleased to see it light up.

“Where are you from?” the girl asked, looking just as intrigued as her cousin.

“The Silvergrove.”

“Are you a Moonshadow elf?”

“Yup.” She gave them both a wry smile.

“Is that why your hair’s white?”

“Robert,” the girl hissed at him. “Don’t be rude.”

“All Moonshadow elves have white hair.” Rayla told him.

“Do you all have markings on your face like that?” he asked, pointing at his own cheeks.

Rayla briefly explained the cultural significance of the marks, and the children listened closely with rapt attention. Some of the adults looked at them and their conversation, like they thought it was inappropriate, but no one admonished them or intervened, and Callum was busy humouring the advisor who was still rambling on about the pie.

With the ice broken, the meal was more pleasant; the children quizzed her about Xadia, and were dying by the end of it to know what a real, _proper_ Moonberry Surprise tasted like. Rayla knew how to make it even if she wasn’t that good at it, and knew that they didn’t have the right ingredients, much to their combined disappointment. By the time they were ready to leave, the children were a lot more animated, and the girl, called Sarah, asked if she was going to dine with them again before she left for the Capital, looking ecstatic when Rayla confirmed that she probably would.

“What?” she asked once they were back in their rooms at the inn, and Callum chuckled to himself.

He put his cloak on one of the chairs at the small table, and smiled at her. “You’re a hit with the kids in this town.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m used to bein’ a novelty.” She said sardonically.

Callum caught her wrists as she walked past, and pulled her close. He stroked her face, tracing the line on her cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

“So you keep sayin’.” She teased, heart fluttering pleasantly in her chest.

“Always true,” he countered, slowly leaning in for a passionate kiss.

After a long, wonderful moment, Rayla leaned back enough to look him in the eyes. “I want you.”

“Ready for second dessert?” he asked suggestively, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“Are _you_ ready?” she challenged, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger.

“I want foreplay.”

“On one condition.”

Callum gave her a searching, increasingly hard look. “Go on.” He said eventually.

Rayla beamed and went to his pack. She fished out his circlet, spun round, and daintily placed it on his brow. Callum froze like a cub at midday, all wide eyed and ridiculously appealing.

“Oh _c’mon_ ,” he groaned when he found his voice.

Rayla gently hooked her fingers in his collar and pulled him closer. “I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid airs and graces _all evenin’_. I want the _real_ Prince Callum tonight.”

“Is the circlet _really_ necessary for that?”

She reached up to stroke his dear face, and he relaxed against her. “You’re the kindest, bravest, dorkiest Mage in the whole world.” She murmured between kisses. “With a talent for drawin’ naughty pictures.”

Callum’s whole face and neck flushed red and he hid in her shoulder for a long moment.

Unable to keep from teasing him, she whispered into his ear, “Don’t think I didn’t see it at the bottom of your pack.” His ‘special’ sketchbook, the one into which he drew all the erotic pictures of her, had been safely tucked away in his luggage until he started unpacking and faffing around with his attire for the evening.

“And there goes whatever sense of propriety I had left,” Callum said with a shy chuckle as he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Rayla stroked his face again, her fingers brushing against the slender band of gold on his brow; acknowledging this one facet of who he was. “Take me to bed,” she breathed, leaning in for a kiss.

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he murmured back, reciprocating the sentiment deeply.

XOXO

The weekend was pleasant enough, when Callum wasn’t dealing with the Councillor. He initially didn’t want to listen to any suggestions Callum had to offer, and kept talking about the ‘perceived problems’ like he thought they were mere bumps in the road. Callum had to keep thinking of tactful ways to gently remind him that he was out of his depth, and then plant seeds in his mind and let him think they were his own ideas when they came to fruition on a conscious level.

It was exhausting work initially, but his advisors and scribe were either old hands, or incredibly bright sparks who caught on quickly, and kept reinforcing Callum’s tactics.

Rayla hung round, trying not to look irritated by all the politics and the endless faffing around; Callum knew how increasingly irritated she was because he could read all those subtle little signs in her body language that everyone else missed. He managed to convince the Councillor to take a break Saturday afternoon, and they went for a walk around the nearby farms. He told Aiden it was to meet with the locals and check in with the farmers, which was true, but it was mostly so he could spend some time alone with Rayla.

It turned out to be a fortuitous excursion; Callum spent nearly an hour in deep discussion with some of the farmers and their staff, and Rayla managed to find a couple of relatives of her soldier friends in the capital. He checked in her direction every so often, but he needn’t have worried; because she knew how to talk to the militia, and knew their kin, she quickly earned their respect and was getting on with them like a house on fire, so he turned his attention back to the farmers.

One of the younger farm hands stood with her arms folded, slowly but surely becoming more irritated as the older people around her continued to skirt around certain issues. Callum had no illusions about the way his station affected how people spoke to him, so he waited for the right moment in the conversation, and after the head farmers had left to get on with chores.

“I feel like you have something on your mind,” Callum said gently to the woman, who was fuming silently as she watched her bosses’ retreating forms.

“Keira,” the guy beside her said sharply, throwing a glance at Callum nervously.

She scowled at him, and then looked at Callum suspiciously.

“I want to help, in whatever way I can.” Callum told them all simply, spreading his hands in open invitation. “And I can do a better job of it if I know more about and understand the problems you’re facing.”

The man beside her gave Keira a dig in the ribs, and she glowered at him.

“You want the _truth_?” she asked, giving Callum a baleful sideways look.

“I invite you to speak freely, and with candour.” Callum almost kicked himself – his stepfather used to say the exact same thing, and he and Soren used to laugh about it. He had thought Ariadne and Adila saying that he was so much like Harrow was simply because they knew him, and had known his stepfather, and because they were both supportive, empathetic people. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“The Councillor is an idiot.” Keira stated. She raised her voice in a wordless bark to overrule whatever her companions tried to interject with, before launching into a tirade about the way Aiden had been behaving. Mixed messages he kept sending out that always contradicted each other; promising funding but then not delivering the full amount, and never on time; insisting that they needed to think their way around or out of problems, but then being upset with them for taking initiative and putting plans into action without having consulted him; never being available for consultation, and leaving it to his advisors to deal with, whom he never had clued into any plans or schedules; and perhaps most grievous of all, running and burying his head in the sand whenever he was openly challenged in a public way that he couldn’t ignore or brush off.

Callum listened carefully, aligning Keira’s complaints with what he had already determined to be the biggest problems, and when she had spent her frustration and anger and fallen silent, he took out a notebook and pencil, and asked them all if there were any other concerns. A few more people came forward, mostly reiterating Keira’s frustration, but a couple added a few fresh and specific concerns about the livestock and crop rotations. Callum almost laughed to himself; he knew something about that topic, because of Lord Tarren’s incessant meetings and analyses, and he already had an idea to help with the situation.

Once all the issues had been aired, Callum asked what they felt were the most pressing matters. He filled in a chart he drew into the book, something he had picked up from Kazi that was great for figuring out how to prioritise items on a to do list. The page was divided into four boxes, with most important and least important, and most urgent and least urgent, with everything falling into one of the four resulting categories. They spent a further half hour fitting everything on the list of concerns into the framework, and Callum let them argue and debate as much as they needed until everyone came to a consensus on how each item needed to be ranked.

Once that was done, Callum started attaching more notes to each point, to start threshing out how best to approach the problems the farmers were facing. He wrote down everything they threw at him, and promised to think it over and start planning how best to deliver what they needed.

When dusk came, and the sun was a watery disk sitting on the horizon, Rayla came looking for him, and Callum wrapped up the meeting diplomatically before sending everyone home for the night. Before he and Rayla could leave, Keira asked for a quick word, and he turned to her, giving Rayla’s arm a squeeze in a silent promise to make sure it _was_ quick.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For listening,” the farm hand said, not quite able to meet his eyes. “And…for not getting angry. I wasn’t very professional…”

Callum gently lifted a hand to silence her. “I can’t help if I don’t have the full picture.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “And I know it can be pretty nerve wracking to speak up like that in front of everyone. Thank you for sharing your concerns and thoughts with me, I promise to do what I can.”

Rayla gave him a complicated look as Keira walked away, and took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. They walked back to the town via a grove of skeletal trees, which would have been a thick green tunnel in the spring. Neither of them felt the need to speak on the way, but they shot each other a lot of loving looks, and he kissed her cheek tenderly a couple of times as they went.

Once they were back in their rooms, Callum set all of his notes from the day on the little dining table ready for the morning, and threw his cloak over the back of the sofa, before turning to give Rayla his full and undivided attention.

“What?” he asked, not quite understanding why she was looking at him quite like that.

Arms folded, weight on her back leg, Rayla lowered her gaze with a shake of her head and a low chuckle. She then unwound her arms so she could place her wrists on her hips, and shifted her weight. With a wry smile, she said, “Katolis is lucky to have ye.”

“Huh?” he gestured for her to continue, having no clue where she was going with this, and was surprised when she crossed the space between them and kissed his lips softly.

Looking deeply into his eyes, Rayla said, “You’re so good at your job, because you really _listen_ to people. If anyone can straighten this mess out, it’s you.”

“I sure hope so,” Callum grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “The reserves in the Capital can’t support a whole county indefinitely, and it seems that the people of Verdeshire are as keen to be self-sufficient as the Store Keepers are.” He gave her a tired smile. “But enough of that for now.” He spread his arms wide, and she wrapped him up in her embrace. “I’m yours until moonset.”

The evening started with eating dinner in the communal dining area downstairs. Despite being shooed away constantly by both of his mothers, Cain kept finding excuses to come and talk to Rayla whenever she was around, so they rarely ever got to eat in complete peace. The dogs roaming around added to the general air of chaos, but as Rayla reminded him bracingly after the head cook pushed Lillian away for the umpteenth time, it was nothing quite as bad as babysitting a storm dragon. Cain’s eyes went wide, and his Mom gave up trying to shoo him away; he pestered Rayla with questions about Zym, and Rayla told him all about the flying, and the lightning, and how incredibly cute the Dragon Prince was. They only managed to slip away at the end of their meal because Rayla promised to talk to him some more tomorrow, and both his parents thanked them and apologised for his behaviour before they could get upstairs.

Callum felt a familiar prickle of anticipation when Rayla went to rummage through her bag. He saw her set the contraceptives aside, and waited for her to spring on him. And because she was Rayla, she surprised him by asking if he wanted to have a bath. Wondering where she was taking them, and eager to please her, Callum agreed, and soon enough they were sitting in the small bronze bathtub together. As a rule, Rayla still didn’t like water, but she was growing fond of baths over time, mostly because Callum enjoyed the practise, and because she liked sharing with him in those experiences.

It started with Rayla leaning back against his chest, at a slight angle, so that when she lifted her chin up, her head was on his shoulder and her nose pressed against the underside of his jaw. She reached up to stroke his face with her right hand, and the tender look in her eyes made him melt completely. A few kisses deepened into foreplay, and before long they were making love in the shallow bathwater. Whether by accident or design, it was _just_ close enough to hightide that the eddies in the water heightened Callum’s senses. Rayla straddled his hips, initially pinning him to the sloped side of the bath, but then pulling him upright so he could get closer; at the invitation, he wrapped his arms around her like he meant to press her into his chest and keep her there.

Callum shifted his legs under her to get better purchase, and she gasped harshly in his ear, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

“Rayla?” he breathed, worried for a long moment he had done something uncomfortable.

“There,” she whimpered, cupping his face with her hand, all sense of command and power over the situation gone. “Right there,”

Clearly, he had found a very sensitive, sexy nerve; he paid close attention to figure out exactly where and at what angle he needed to work from, and after a little bit of experimenting he tilted her hips and ground up against her very deliberately. Her answering cries and the way she arched her back in response was all the encouragement he needed. Rayla threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close, her voice becoming increasingly higher pitched as he worried her throat with his teeth. He traced a sprawling line up and down her spine, following a repeating pattern of the moon phases, and she shivered as her hips bucked involuntarily against him. Her lack of control made him chuckle against her damp skin, relishing how unhinged he had made her tonight; it promised to be an explosive orgasm at this rate.

There was a horrified gasp, and Callum jerked back to look her in the face, freezing in place. Rayla stared back at him in confusion before her head snapped round towards the door. Callum followed her gaze more slowly, and felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice over his head. A maid was standing in the doorway, one hand on the handle, a pile of towels in her other arm, gaping at them with about as much alarm and panic as he was feeling himself.

For a long, agonising moment, no one said or did anything. Rayla gripped his shoulders, like she meant to sink into a defensive position to shield him from attack.

“I-” the maid stammered as she trembled. She lowered her gaze, looking everywhere but at them, and finally she dropped the towels in an untidy heap on the floor. “I-I- Please…F-forgive me,” she managed to bow before she ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Callum put his hands over his face, completely mortified. He looked through his fingers at Rayla when she groaned; she gave him a desperate look, bottom lip between her teeth. He closed his eyes, wincing both physically and internally, and felt her shift against him, a whine at the back of her throat.

“Please,” she begged.

Callum winced again. Getting interrupted like that was a turn off at the best of times, but the broader context of the situation made him incredibly uneasy. The last thing he wanted was to give anyone _any_ reason to suspect Rayla of trying to influence Katolian politics – by any means really, but particularly _not_ seduction.

Feeling his reluctance, Rayla winced herself and slowly leaned forward until their brows touched, and he met her gaze with all the contrition he had in him.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured quietly as she reached up to touch his face.

Rayla gave him a sad smile, and kissed his cheek before slowly standing up and getting out of the bath. Callum hid his face in his hands again and slunk down until he was almost completely submerged by the water. He knew she didn’t blame him, but he still felt like he’d let her down.

Eventually, he forced himself to get up and follow Rayla into the living room. She was sitting on the couch reading a book, looking very sheepish; the door had been locked, and Callum wedged a chair under the handle for good measure. He smiled shyly at the raised eyebrow she gave him, and then flushed under her continued gaze as she looked him up and down, wrapped up in a dressing gown. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, Callum cleared his throat and asked if she wanted to go to bed, wincing when his voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

Rayla slowly put the book down, got up from her seat, and crossed the room to stand before him. He couldn’t help but notice the effortless way she moved despite her very casual demeanour. He knew it was probably because he was unbelievably biased, but he thought she was always beautiful, whatever she was doing and wherever she was going.

Folding her arms, and further arching an eyebrow at Callum, she said, “We don’t have to, y’know.”

“I want to.” He blurted out, feeling the heat creep across his neck.

Rayla closed her eyes and leaned forward so that her brow and nose were pressed against his. After a comfortable pause, she said quietly, “Sometimes I swear the world has it in for us.”

Callum chuckled softly. He was just glad that so far, Ezran hadn’t walked in on them in the act; he didn’t think he’d ever be able to look his little brother in the eye again if he did. When Rayla didn’t say anything, he gently nudged with, “What is it?”

Rayla gave him a look torn between apology, frustration and resignation, before she wrapped her arms around his middle and snuggled into his embrace. “Nothin’…” she sighed.

Callum imagined that she was disappointed to have been interrupted so close to the end, and was unwilling to say so in order to spare his feelings. He smiled and kissed her hair before burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

They went to bed early, and after a little bit of hesitation on both sides, they tried again. It wasn’t the fireworks it could have been earlier, but it was still deeply pleasurable for them both; he paid extra attention and put in that little bit more effort to make up for it.

Then his chest started to hurt. Or rather, it flared up; he was always aching and twinging to a certain degree. It brought a wave of fatigue that had Rayla instantly on alert when she felt the change in his body.

“You _sure_ you wanna keep goin’?” she asked, reaching to touch his face gently.

Callum ducked in vain to try and hide from her concern out of reflex. The position they had settled on had him lying perpendicular to her, so it wasn’t as easy to look each other right in the eye; not as easy, but not impossible. That, and he couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to.

“Yes,” he admitted, feeling more and more like a burden as the evening wore on.

Rayla deftly manoeuvred him onto his back so that she was straddled across his hips without uncoupling their bodies, or breaking her stride – it was actually quite impressive, and left him stunned and breathless as she loomed over him with that crooked smile that always made his heart skip a beat. A finger traced his lips and cheekbones, before she braced her weight more securely, and took them to the end.

Before they settled down to sleep, Rayla insisted on tending to his wound, and gave him a very wry smile when he sulked over it.

“What’s that pouty face for?” she asked eventually as she washed her hands and went looking for his tea leaves.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said primly. Then, in the split second after his tone of voice registered in his mind, he tried to sink under the covers and bury himself from the world.

It was made even worse when Rayla burst out laughing, unable to stop herself. Still giggling, she sat down on the edge of the bed and bundled him up in her arms through the duvet. “It’s criminal how adorable you are,” she said conversationally.

“Step back.” He said in a small voice, trying to squirm out of her arms.

“What now?” she asked, obligingly sitting back and giving him room.

“I’m gonna cast an earthquake spell so the ground will swallow me up. I don’t want you following me.”

Rayla scoffed loudly and reached over to ruffle his hair through the covers. “Not gonna happen. Right! Tea, and then bed.”

Callum accepted the medicine with all the grace he could muster with his ego and nerves feeling so bruised. He was grateful that Rayla didn’t push for any further conversation until after they had put the lights out. They curled up together, his cheek resting in the crook of her neck; she gently caressed the back of his head, pressing a kiss to his hair as she nuzzled closer.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked in a low voice.

Callum sighed, and pressed himself closer still. “I just…don’t want to give anyone whose _already_ got an axe to grind, any more ammunition.” He said carefully. When her hand stilled against his hair, he added, “I don’t want people accusing you of subterfuge.”

Rayla laughed softly, and he lifted his head so he could look her in the eye. Her smile was sly and teasing. “Such a shame, that the kingdom will never know how much of a _softie_ y’are.”

“Oh?”

Rayla gripped the collar of his nightshirt and pulled him in for a kiss. He melted into her touch, and then smiled unrepentantly when she chuckled again. “You’re such a sap. Too bad it only works in bed.”

“Not that anyone else needs to know,” he told her evenly. Then he sighed and settled down by her side again. “I don’t want you run through the rumour mill because of me.” He wondered glumly how soon the gossip of Prince Callum and his elven bodyguard sleeping together would be all over the town.

“Callum,” Rayla said matter-of-factly as she stretched her free arm before placing the hand behind her head, stroking his hair with the other. “You’ve never tried to hide our relationship. And I’m not clued into what the High Council decides and gets up to. If I _were_ a spy, I’m doin’ an absolutely _terrible_ job of it.”

Callum didn’t say anything, but he cuddled up closer, giving her a loving squeeze.

“Y’can’t protect me from evry’thin’.” She murmured against his hair.

“I know.” He told her simply, smiling against her neck. “But I can still try.” He grinned unrepentantly when she poked him hard in the neck.

“Nope. Not havin’ this argument now.”

“I win.”

“S’not winnin’ if it’s by default just cause your opponent lost the will t’live.”

Callum slowly dragged himself up to give her a long, satirical look. He cleared his throat, and said, “You _fucking_ hypocrite, Rayla.”

He got a pillow to the face for his troubles, but his message had been clearly understood judging by her smile.

XOXO

As Callum had originally predicted, he managed to do all the things he needed to in just a couple of days, meaning they had some real quality time to spare for each other. Once he had signed and filed all the paperwork that he needed to, and spoken at length to the Councillor’s advisors, he put on his plainest clothes and they went for a walk around the town before hiking into the hills for a whole afternoon.

The maid who had walked in on them kept her head down and avoided them both like the plague, which was fine by Rayla. No one seemed to bring up any further gossip about Callum, or her, but she imagined that was because the townspeople weren’t stupid enough to do anything to openly antagonise their landlord, who appeared to be doing everything he could to support their county.

The glorious day they spent in each other’s company was well worth waiting for, and if the weather were warmer, she probably would have insisted on having sex in the great outdoors. As it was, Rayla was perfectly happy to stay inside her nice warm clothing today. The temperature had dropped once more, and Callum was convinced that it was going to snow again soon. At the top of a wooded hill, they walked into a clearing, and Callum exclaimed at the cloudscape above them: great big billowing clouds, tinged yellow and brewing on the edge of the horizon.

“We might have to think about leaving sooner, or later than planned.” He said with a frown.

Rayla pulled a face. She knew a little weather lore from the survival skills Runaan had drilled into her, and that weather front did look a bit dicey. “I imagine Ez’ll want you back sooner.”

“Hmm.” Was all he said in return, giving her hand a squeeze.

They stopped on a tree stump to eat the packed lunch they had bought at the market, and wiled away a pleasant couple of hours looking for shapes in the roiling snow clouds. Callum got out his sketchbook and started doodling the myriad of bird tracks in the patches of snow dotted around the tree stump, and Rayla went to investigate the surrounding woodland. She came back to find him staring into the distance and drawing a picture of her with a bright, playful smile, and the opportunity was too good to miss. She crept up behind him, grinning from ear to ear, and stuffed her cold left hand down the back of his neck.

Callum shrieked and toppled sideways, flailing for a Sky rune, and scowled at her when he picked himself up while she howled with laughter.

“You’re hilarious,” he told her with an impressively snarky tone.

Rayla beamed unrepentantly and waved the picture he had been drawing in his face. “I dunno what you’re expectin’.” She told him innocently.

He snatched his book back and poked her in the ribs. “You’re the biggest pain in the back this side of the border.”

Rayla kissed the tip of his nose, and his irritation dissolved instantly. “You love me, really.” She hedged.

“Yeah,” his answering smile was very soft. “I do.”

They messed around a bit more before heading back; snow balls were thrown, the local squirrels and songbirds were mildly traumatised when Callum tried and failed to start a sparring match, and by the time they got back to Acton his trouser legs were soaked through from melted snow. They headed back sooner rather than later because the wind shifted, and even Rayla could smell the impending snow in the air. It was still a bit early for supper, so Callum went to the bakery to get something for them to snack on in the meantime.

Rayla waited for him by the fountain in the town square at the very centre. Or maybe that wasn’t the right word, since it was circular? The water was frozen, and some children had drawn pictures into the surface with sharp sticks. Rayla looked over the wonky horses and pigs, and what might have been meant to be a chicken, smiling to herself. She had managed to glimpse Callum’s earlier works with Amaya’s help, and these pictures reminded her of them. Every great artisan had to start somewhere; Ethari showed her the abysmal first few wire sculptures he had ever made, because she had refused to accept that he had ever been anything other than perfect in his work. It wasn’t until years later that she really understood what he had been trying to tell her that day; that no one was born perfectly skilled, and you had to work hard to hone your abilities.

A gust of wind blew across the square, and Rayla pulled her hood down more securely around her shoulders. A group of youths she had clocked earlier sat down at a nearby bench, and she tuned into their conversation when she heard Callum’s name.

“Yeah! My cousin said one of the maids saw them _together_.”

Rayla closed her eyes and winced, hoping Callum didn’t come back mid conversation and that no one noticed the hooded figure skulking by the fountain.

“Well, they _are_ here on business,” one of the girls, who looked a lot like the farm hand Callum had spoken to the other day at great length – probably a relative.

“No, I mean _together_ together.”

“Like…what?” one of the boys asked in an unimpressed tone.

“As in screwing each other?”

Rayla turned her back, cheeks going red and contemplating legging it, even though that would just draw attention to her.

“Oh _come on_!” someone said. “A, don’t be so crude, and _B_ , how’s it any of our business?”

“You don’t think the Prince banging an elf is juicy gossip?” the instigator asked in amazement.

There was a smattering of nervous laughter, and then someone stated bluntly, “Not _really_. As long as the County Council gets its shit together and the harvest goes as planned next year, who cares? Anyway-”

“Isn’t it, like, common knowledge he’s in a relationship with an elf anyway?”

“Wait. _What_?!”

“Seriously, dude. Didn’t you know that?” someone snickered.

“No! When did this happen?!”

“C’mon man, you’ve been living under a rock the last five years.”

“It’s such a shame,” one of the girls sighed dreamily, and Rayla chanced a glance in their direction. There were about seven of them in total, and Rayla was quite sure the one talking had been around the Meeting Hall the last time they had spoken to the Councillor. “He has the most _gorgeous_ green eyes.”

A boy wearing an interesting looking item of clothing that seemed to double up as a hat, scarf and gloves all in one, said, “He’s a prince. He’d never look _twice_ at you.”

“He looked twice at an _elf_ , of all people,” she said indignantly, scooping up a handful of snow to throw at her detractor. “And he’s only three years older than me!”

“Still wouldn’t happen.”

“Kill joy.”

“I mean, it _could_ , but it would be statutory rape because you’re underage.”

“Can we change the subject to something less cringey?” one of the other girls asked loudly, giving the dreamer a friendly dig in the ribs. “And Beth, _please_ don’t do anything inappropriate until _after_ we know next year’s crops have been saved,”

“Hey,”

Rayla started and spun round as Callum came up beside her, holding a steaming bag of warm pastries. “All right?”

“Sorry it took so long,” Callum grinned, showing her a folded slip of paper. “I got some recipes for Ez. I can’t wait to show him Verdant Pie! Do you want to stay out a bit longer or go inside?”

“I’m quite enjoyin’ the fresh air,” she gave the darkening skyline a hard look. “While it lasts,” she muttered under her breath.

Callum toasted her with a pastry twist rather like the ones Barius liked to make, and they sat down on the edge of the fountain to eat. Callum pulled his hood back, his cheeks a little flushed, and attempted to brush the crumbs from his clothes with little success. The group of youths were still chatting away, oblivious to their presence. Callum leaned against Rayla’s side, lacing his fingers with hers, and laid his cheek on her shoulder. She leaned back against him, perfectly content for the moment to just sit there with him.

It didn’t last long; one of the advisors came hurrying across the square towards them, and they both sighed with defeat. “I’ll make sure its quick,” Callum murmured, squeezing her hand.

“Oh look, Philip’s on the go again,” one of the boys on the bench snickered.

The man walked up to Callum as he stood up to greet him, and bowed deeply. “My Lord, a letter arrived for you this morning.”

“Wonder who he is?” someone mused out loud. Rayla glanced in their direction again; most of them looked interested to varying degrees, but two of them had locked gazes with wide eyed comprehension, and she nearly laughed out loud at the startled pair of cubs.

“And Councillor Aiden would like to extend an invitation to you – to you both,” the advisor amended as he fiddled with his sleeves. “On Wednesday evening.”

Callum couldn’t hide the momentary alarm from his expression, and he turned to Rayla with an uneasy look. “I don’t know…The King needs me to go back fairly soon, and I’m concerned about the weather,” he gestured to the laden sky.

“I’m sure the Councillor will understand,” the advisor said with a deep bow.

Once he was gone, Rayla asked, “Who’s the letter from?” the seal was your bog standard brown wax from the post office – it couldn’t be that important, but who would bother sending anything to Callum out here if it wasn’t?

Callum looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

“Uh oh.” Rayla said, feigning dread. “Tell me it ain’t so.”

“Lord Tarren.” Callum scowled, holding out the letter for her to see. “Wants an appointment with me as soon as physically possible. Because Opeli won’t tell him where I am or when I’m coming back or what projects I’m involved with.”

“Does that bastard _never_ give up?” Rayla groaned. She already shared his attention with the rest of the kingdom – she resented every minute of Callum’s time this guy took up.

“Well, full marks for tenacity,” Callum admitted, giving the letter one last look before scrunching it up into his pocket. With a wry smile, he asked, “How upset do you think Ez would be if we stayed a bit longer?”

“What about the snow?” Rayla pointed out.

“Weather mage, remember?” Callum struck a pose and wiggled his fingers, grinning. “I’ve got more than just my _zap hand_ up my sleeve!”

Rayla folded her arms and raised her eyebrows as she narrowed her eyes at him, affecting an unimpressed look.

“You love me really,” Callum teased, gently putting his hands on her arms and leaning closer to her.

“Only the Fates know why,” she rolled her eyes, but smiled and responded to his gentle kiss before her mind could catch up and remember the audience nearby. Then, because she had had a full day in Callum’s company, and because she felt so light-hearted, she threw caution to the winds and lowered her hood. As they turned to walk back to the inn, she took his hand and lifted it above his head; Callum obligingly spun on the spot, smiling and laughing as they went through a few steps of a Moonshadow dance.

Rayla smiled back just as brightly, and her arm wound itself around his waist from the front; he mirrored the stance, and they spun in a tight circle together on the spot. It was an incredibly intimate dance move – normally you didn’t touch your partner when you danced publicly unless you were married, but that cultural nuance was lost on the watching teens. Callum leaned closer, their brows touching, and kissed her cheek before taking both her hands and gently tugging her towards the inn. Rayla smiled and followed him, squeezing his hand lovingly.

There was a ringing silence behind them. Then, someone whistled long and low. “ _Dayumn_ is that elf beautiful.” He yelped when several people apparently smacked him into silence.

Rayla glanced at Callum to see his reaction; he was blushing, but smiling.

They ate in relative peace that night, because the inn was so full of people that the staff were constantly busy, including Cain. The maid who had walked in on them had to wait their table, and she didn’t meet their eyes every time she had to come over. The way the woman behaved made Rayla even more uncomfortable, and she didn’t like the way other people nearby eyed them sideways every time the maid had to interact with them. They retired early to escape the mounting awkwardness, making sure to slide the deadbolts home the moment they were in their rooms.

Callum gave Lord Tarren’s letter the full five minutes of his time it was worth, and asked Rayla, “Are you okay with staying a bit longer?”

“Ehh,” Rayla shrugged unhelpfully. “Not really my call.”

“I don’t mind using the Councillor’s invitation as an excuse. We’d be going back a couple of days late, and there’s some High Council stuff I need to get finished before the holiday. I promised Ezran there’d be no politics at the winter lodge.”

Rayla shrugged again with a wry smile. “I’m not complainin’ about a couple more days with you.”

“Okay. I’ll write back and let the High Council know I’m staying a bit longer. You sure Amaya can spare you that long?”

“She’ll live,” Rayla flicked the question away with a snap of her wrist as she reclined on the couch.

Callum sat down at the table to write his letter, and she waited patiently. It didn’t take long to compose a general announcement to the High Council, or scribble an apologetic note to Ezran about the delay. Rayla watched him debate for all of about ten seconds whether to write to Tarren directly, and then decide against it.

“Brutal.” She commented as Callum sealed the letters and set them aside.

“Whut?” he asked distractedly, looking for his pencil box.

Rayla stretched languidly, back arched, hands high above her head, and was gratified to catch him watching her from the corner of her vision. She affected a careless attitude and got up from the couch before walking towards the nearest bedroom.

“Everyone got a letter except _him_. Y’know how painful it is when someone _desperately_ wants your attention,” she spun on her back foot and batted her eyelashes at him, hands propped underneath her chin. “And you don’t give it to them?”

Callum stifled his laughter, turning away from her for a moment while he tried to gather some composure.

“Is this a _hint_ , or…?” he trailed away with a playful smile, and grinned when she crossed the room in two paces. “Are you acting all innocent to hide something?”

Rayla feigned mild astonishment as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I have no idea what you’re referrin’ to, _Your Grace_.” She kissed the crown of his head before pressing her cheek against his hair.

Callum ran his thumb over the crease of her left wrist as he tilted his head towards her. “It’s been a wonderful day.”

“It has.” She agreed, kissing his ear. “Y’know what’d make it even better?”

“Go on,” he put on a seductive tone as he kissed her knuckles.

“Endin’ the day with mad, intense, _passionate_ love makin’.”

Callum deliberated over this proposition for a long moment, so Rayla leaned over his shoulder and murmured in his ear, “Let me tie you to the bed, and I’ll give you half an hour of foreplay – whatever you want.”

“Deal,” he said, jumping out of the chair to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her deeply.

Rayla triple checked the deadlocks were all in place before they retired to the bedroom for the night. She went to go find the contraceptives, and was dismayed to find her bag was damp; the full bottle of solution had broken at some point in the previous few days, and leaked everywhere. The nearly empty bottle, however, was completely intact. She turned to Callum to share the bad news, and saw he was holding what looked like a set of dice in his hands.

“I was thinking,” he said with a shy smile, and then paused when he saw her expression. “What’s wrong?”

She scowled and held up the miniscule amount of contraceptive left. “The bottle broke. This is all we have left.” It was only enough for one night. The fates had it in for her.

“Oh.” Callum looked from the bottle to Rayla’s face and back again with wide eyes. “Okay,” he shifted nervously. “Okay…So, uh – if we’re staying until Thursday, we need to be careful.”

Rayla groaned with frustration.

Callum’s soft, understanding smile just made it all the more irritating. “There’s more than one way to strim a branch,” he reminded her gently.

That was undoubtedly true, but he knew that Rayla’s favourite kind of intercourse was the kind that could result in babies; he wouldn’t contemplate it without the solution, of which they currently had one dose. Even with the teas they both drank, he didn’t want to risk it using just one form of contraceptive – which was lovely and noble and thoughtful of him, but a massive pain in moments like this.

“You’re not helpin’,” Rayla whined, poking him in the stomach. “I wanted you on the last night!”

Stifling a chuckle, Callum said, “We don’t have to have sex right now,” he squeaked when Rayla poked him again, harder this time.

“I want you _now_.”

Callum met her gaze levelly, and she knew she had lost the argument the moment he was aware that they only had the one dose available. “There’s only enough for one. This isn’t negotiable.”

Rayla knew he had a point. He had made it clear at the very start of their physical relationship that they needed to be careful about pregnancy; they were still very young, neither of them ready for that responsibility, and Rayla wasn’t entirely sure if she ever _would_ be. That, and Callum’s station in Katolian society massively complicated matters; a half elven child born out of wedlock to the Prince would be a scandal, both in Xadia and the Pentarchy. She was the subject of enough rumour and scrutiny without something like that to contend with; Callum wanted to shield her as much as possible from vicious gossip.

She turned aside, mostly to hide from the deep understanding in his expression. “I know.” She sighed heavily. As she was casting around for a decision, Rayla looked at Callum’s hand, and gestured at it vaguely. “What y’got there?”

“Oh! Uh,” Callum tried to hide the dice behind his back, and smiled sheepishly when Rayla advanced on him. They both knew she could wrestle them from him easily. “I err- I thought, maybe we could, uhh…” he closed his eyes, cringing as he brought them out into the open for her to look at. “I overheard a conversation a few weeks ago, about this thing, and I thought, maybe…we could…experiment?”

There were three six-sided dice, two of which had words written on their faces instead of numbers, and Rayla quickly put the pieces together. It seemed to be a game, to roll the dice and perform the action described for however many minutes; the words currently facing up as they sat in Callum’s palm were ‘kiss’ and ‘ear’.

Rayla was very much intrigued, but it didn’t help make the decision any easier. After debating back and forth, in her own mind, Rayla gave in; she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked Callum full in the face. He smiled back, his cheeks as flushed as her own probably were.

“That looks like a lot of fun. All right then. Tonight,” she said, reaching up to rearrange his scarf. Then she hooked her fingers into it and pulled him closer. “But I get you, when we’re back, the _moment_ y’get off duty. Full vaginal penetration.”

“Of course. On one condition,”

“Oh?”

Callum’s eyes flashed and he lifted the dice up for emphasis. “Tonight, you’re on the receiving end.”

Rayla drew a line up the centre of his throat to his chin, tilting his head back so he was vulnerable and exposed. “Deal,” she scraped her teeth against the pulse point, just to remind him he wasn’t in charge. “So, how many rounds d’ya think we can fit into half an hour?”

Callum slipped the nearly empty bottle from her hands with a sly smile. “Only one way to find out,”

XOXO

Despite what Lord Tarren may have believed, the Castle – and Kingdom at large – continued to tick over without Callum’s direct input. There was a lot to do before the Solstice break, and the infirmary was constantly on the go with a steady stream of coughs and sniffles coming through every day, on top of the usual injuries and illnesses they dealt with. The Winter Solstice was a much-loved celebration in the human kingdoms, but especially in Katolis; it was a time for family and friends, when everyone got together and shared what they had to get through the cold, dark months.

One of the things that had become apparent during the delegates’ visit was just how similar their cultures really were; _everyone_ celebrated the winter solstice in some way, as well as the other annual lunar and celestial events, and for a variety of reasons. On this particular evening in the dispensary, they were discussing these subtle differences while they packed up for the day.

Aibeck was explaining the finer points of the autumn equinox to Moonshadow elves, to the rapt attention of his audience as they dried the newly washed measuring cylinders and carefully put them away.

“So it’s like a festival for the dead,” said a human of Del Barian descent.

Aibeck pulled a face, and appealed to Malra, who gave him a blank look in response from her perch on the work surface. “No, not quite.” He didn’t really know how to explain it; some words didn’t translate well across multiple languages, and it could be a struggle sometimes to convey the necessary nuance. “It’s…more like, celebratin’…transition?” Again, Malra gave him a blank look, and he scowled at her.

Ariadne leaned back in her chair and turned stiffly to look at them all over her shoulder. “You know, Ivan, Halloween isn’t actually about the dead, either.”

“Then what’s the point of the Jack-o-lanterns?”

“Ah!” Dylan dropped himself into the conversation with a grin. “Did you know the practise of carving out vegetables to make lanterns actually started with turnips?”

Nia had been rummaging around some boxes under one of the central work benches, and she slowly rose up over the top to look at Dylan with a raised eyebrow. Folding her arms and propping her chin in her hand, she said wryly, “Now I’m intrigued. You do _what_ now?”

“It’s this thing we do the last day of October. Everyone carves a pumpkin – but _traditionally_ it should be a swede or a turnip – and puts a candle in it. Usually you carve a scary face, and the kids run around dressed up as monsters from fairy tales and knock on people’s doors asking for candy and sweets.”

“That’s a very strange concept.” Kiara adjusted the glasses on her nose. “I’m not so sure that I understand,”

“Well, in Neolandia it’s a day for venerating the deceased.” Someone else ventured. “Katolis does things a bit differently…”

Finally, Ariadne got up from her seat and walked over to physically join the conversation. “It’s an old tradition that goes back probably thousands of years. The idea being that around the time of the equinox, the veil between the physical and spirit worlds is thin, so demons and bad spirits come for a jaunt through to the land of the living. So, the idea was for the living to dress up in scary costumes to trick the spirits into believing they were spirits too, so they would be left alone. The practise of trick-or-treating grew out of the tradition of giving stuff away to everyone you met so that if there _were_ any bad spirits floating around town, you had appeased them. The last day of October’s just an arbitrary day to make it easier on the calendar months.” She looked at Aibeck, who was struggling to put his thoughts into words.

“It sounds a bit like what we do.” Malra put in before he could rally his thoughts into coherence. “The dark moon closest to the equinox, everyone dresses up and has a big party in the village centre. It’s more about the lines between truth and illusion bein’ blurred, but there are stories of the dead and the livin’ crossin’ paths at the equinox. In the Silvergrove, all the kids dress up and the grownups go round the village settin’ up little puzzles for’em t’solve. Stuff like little levers and pulleys that have to be set off in the right order, and they collect some kind of prize for it. The six kids with the most tokens at the end of the night usually get bumped up a class in whatever they’re trainin’ for. Everyone else gets cakes and stuff. Younger kids dress up like animals, but the older kids usually go full camouflage and try to outwit whatever traps their mentors set out for ‘em.”

Ariadne wore a wide eyed and inscrutable expression, and when Dylan poked her in the ribs, she said, “That sounds insanely fun and I’m kinda jealous.”

“Nothing beats Winter Solstice, though.” Dylan added with a grin.

“I dunno, bonfire night in Duren is amazing.”

“A night dedicated to bonfires!” Aibeck spread his hands dramatically with a grin. “What’s the cultural story behind that one?”

A few humans laughed and snickered, and Ariadne spoke succinctly before offense could be taken. “There was a plot to blow up the palace in Berylgarten, and someone was nabbed and made the scapegoat for the attempted crime. So Duren celebrates the day the powder kegs _didn’t_ blow up the palace by having a massive bonfire and setting off fireworks.”

“When did this happen?” Aibeck asked.

“What, there’s a _reason_ behind it?” one of the younger trainee medics gaped in surprise. “I thought it was just an excuse to get wasted!”

“Spoken like a true Del Barian…” Seb muttered under his breath, _just_ loud enough to be audible by everyone in the immediate vicinity.

“I’d like to cry foul. But he’s right,” came the reply.

“I would just like to give a friendly reminder about spell casting under the influence.” Nia added brightly. “Don’t charm whilst drunk kids, it _never_ ends well.”

Seb snorted with laughter and gave his sister a dig in the ribs. “Can you imagine Drunk Mage Callum?”

“Already seen it.” She grinned back. “Those spectral banthers are fucking cool!”

Seb’s eyes went wide, and he started waving his hands excitedly. “Oh! Ohhh! Guys! Guys, we should totally do a Moonshadow style Halloween next year! Callum’s an illusionist, right?”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Ariadne said, a little uncertainly. “But-”

“The kids’ll _love_ it! Its something fun, new, _and_ it’ll be teaching them critical thinking skills! Plus, Callum can go creatively nuts with some cool themed mirages! It’s gonna be immense!”

“Err…” Malra lifted a hand, trying to find a place to interject. “That’s…not how Moon magic works,”

“Don’t bother, he’s not going to shut up about his bright idea for another couple of hours,” Ariadne said with a sigh.

“It’s gonna be the _best_ Halloween ever!” Seb insisted, already starting to turn ideas over in his mind.

Ariadne turned to Nia for support, but the Sky Mage was watching a couple of elves in the back corner with curiosity. Brock was walking across the room, and paused to watch as well for a moment. The group were playing at shadow puppets; one of them (a Sun Mage) was holding a small light in her hand, and Baelan was crouching down, bending his hands to make a dragon silhouette on the wall.

“I _am_ The World Eater!” one of the other’s proclaimed, affecting a guttural tone. “ _Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki_!”

“Is that Draconic?” Ariadne asked Nia.

The Skywing elf laughed. “Nope. Alduin, you must understand, was a _special_ , strange kind of dragon.”

“They say he still swims the endless river of time,” Aibeck put in with a wicked grin, creeping forward with a pantomime of subtlety. “And one day,” he leapt with a battle cry to land right beside the human, like a pouncing banther. “He’ll eat the world!” Because he came up on her right side, Ariadne toppled sideways. Nia caught her and pulled her upright, and Aibeck rubbed the back of his head with a very sheepish smile. “Heh. Sorry, about that…”

“My right side is my weak side,” was all she said.

“I must say,” Nia went on to cover the awkwardness. “I _am_ surprised that Carlisle knows that language.”

They were interrupted by Carlisle crowing, “ _Nust wo ni qiilaan fen kos duaan_!” just before he tackled Baelan and his shadow puppet dragon to the floor with a shriek of surprise.

“Guys!” Ariadne barked loudly over the ensuing laughter. “This is a _fucking_ dispensary!”

“Easy, everyone,” Brock added lightly before things could escalate.

There was a brisk knock on the door from the main infirmary, and Kiara went to answer it while the elves picked Baelan off the floor and dusted him down with good-natured laughter. She came back looking a bit nervous, with an equally anxious looking middle-aged human hovering at her elbow. Ariadne just about managed to cover her surprise and frustration to see Viscount Tarren standing in the middle of the dispensary.

“My Lord,” she said carefully, angling the elves around her away so they didn’t have to deal with the looks the man was shooting at them. “Do you need help? Is there no one downstairs?”

“No, no, perfectly fine, my dear. I was just wondering if you had heard from Prince Callum at all?”

Ariadne’s expression became fixed, and Seb quietly slipped into her shadow for mutual support. “No, Sir. I haven’t. I think it’s best that you wait to hear from the High Council.”

“I was assured it would not take long for him to return, but-”

Seb interjected politely. “These things may take time. I’m sure if there are any delays, it will be because the Prince is taking extra care to make sure everything is in order for the county before he leaves,”

After Lord Tarren had been persuaded to leave of his own volition, Seb added in an undertone, “Either that, or he’s busy banging Rayla.”

“Seb!” Ariadne hissed, spinning around to smack his arm. “For _actual_ fuck sake, don’t be so crude!”

“Just saying,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets and neatly side stepping out of the way while Ariadne had to laboriously right herself on her dodgy leg. “She’s stunning, and he’s dotty about her. _Tell me_ you wouldn’t do the same,”

Ariadne gave him a hard look. “Tell me you’d mind being the subject of all that gossip, yourself.”

That particular barb made him back down, and quietly go about helping the healers and medics to finish tidying up. Nia and Brock exchanged looks a couple of times while they worked, silently communicating in that way you only could with someone you had known for years. The human twins continued to snipe at each other as they all filed out of the dispensary; Carlisle kept reciting from the lays of Alduin, The World Eater while one half of the group rolled their eyes and the other half listened with interest. Brock caught Nia’s eye again, and they both hung back at the tail of the group, waving the youngsters off and bidding them all good night until they were left alone.

In Nia’s room (because Brock’s was even messier than his study), they shared a glass of Durenese wine each, and for a long moment reflected separately before lifting their gazes to meet the other’s eyes.

“Verdict?” she asked, holding out her glass towards his.

Brock smiled and clinked their glasses together, the way humans liked to make toasts. “It goes exceedingly well. And I quite like the idea of a multicultural Hallow’s Eve.”

Nia raised an eyebrow at the turn of phrase as she took a long draft. “It will be an interesting Solstice, to say the least.”


	11. Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer than I had hoped to get done ‘xD things have been a bit up in the air for me over the last couple of weeks, and my computer was having semi-serious tech problems. Hopefully I’ll be writing a bit more frequently in the coming weeks.

The weather held for a few more days, just about. It was looking dicey Wednesday afternoon, and Rayla quadruple checked their bags and went to see the horses twice before she was satisfied with their travel preparations. Cain followed her around the second time she went to the stables, so she humoured him and asked if he would help her fetch the horses’ feed and check their legs with her. He was a bright kid, very curious about everything, and soaked up all that he learned like a sponge.

Rayla liked to think he had a favourable impression of Elves and Xadia in general now, and when she had voiced this sentiment to Callum he laughed, prompting her to give him a quizzical look.

“I think it’s more that you’re _you_ , than that you’re just a nice elf who happens to be passing through.”

She had no idea what under the moon he meant by that, but with the preparations for leaving in the morning and the formal dinner that evening, she never got round to asking. It being an official meal and all, Rayla forced herself to take more care over her appearance and braid her hair nicely. Callum once again faffed around with his circlet, looking increasingly uneasy until she hooked it out of his hands and flung it into his satchel to make the decision for him.

“It’s been a nice, long weekend.” Callum murmured, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing the corner of her mouth.

“Nearly a full week.” She added lazily, gazing into his gorgeous green eyes and wishing they had more time away from the Castle.

“I’ll be yours the moment we go on leave,” he promised, pressing his lips to her temple and holding her close.

“I don’t mind sharin’ ye with Ezran.” She mumbled into his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his fingers in her hair.

Callum sighed and drew back, taking her hands in his. “Right. Let’s get this over with,”

It really wasn’t that bad; the kids were happy to see Rayla again, and she indulged in their questions and told funny stories about the Dragon Prince and travelling through Xadia. Callum kept glancing at her throughout the evening as he spoke to the Councillors and advisors, even though she signalled to him more than once that everything was fine. She really thought she’d put her foot in it when she told the one about how Zym had tripped Callum up and made him fall headfirst into the flatulily patch, but one of the older advisors roared with laughter and needed to be thumped on the back.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” he continued to chuckle, struggling to contain himself.

Callum smiled ruefully at Rayla, who beamed back, and the kids fell about laughing again at her obviously feigned innocence. “The things we do for child minding,” he said wryly, turning back to the advisor. “Dragonlings included.”

Rayla distinctly remembered Callum bending down to pinch Zym’s cheeks, the way Ezran would, and told him he was lucky he was so damn cute. She had practically thrown Callum into a river because she couldn’t stand to be near him, but she left that bit of the story out. The poor Prince’s ego had been bruised enough for the evening without her spilling any more unfortunate anecdotes.

At the end of the meal, one of the older cousins tried to initiate some post-dinner drinks, and Callum politely declined despite some rather forceful persuasion. Councillor Aiden took him aside one last time, and while she waited she ended up chatting with the kids, who were all sad that she was leaving.

“Will you come back?” Robert asked, doing that big wide-eyed expression all kids seemed to think would work to get what they wanted. Then again, it always seemed to work when Ezran flashed them at Callum…

“Probably, but not for a while. General Amaya needs me after the Solstice.”

“I heard that there was going to be some sort of student exchange with Lux Aurea,” a young teen called Breanna said slowly, with a deeply thoughtful expression beyond her years.

Rayla gave her a lopsided smile. “That’s the plan, but nothin’s set in stone yet. It’s one of the things they’ll be discussin’ at the Summit.”

“I’d _love_ to visit the library in the capital.” The girl went on, lacing her fingers together and placing them under her chin. Robert rolled his eyes and huffed loudly at the gesture. “And the Sun Nexus – I’ve heard _so_ many stories about Sunforged metal! I’d love to see it in person,”

Rayla silently appraised her for a long moment. She herself wasn’t a Mage by any stretch of the imagination, but Rayla thought that perhaps this girl might have that spark that could forge an arcanum. She was intelligent and asked really smart questions, and listened with rapt attention to the stories about Xadia, as well as being able to repeat all that she had learned in her own words instead of just parroting back what she had heard.

Soon, Callum came back, smiling tiredly and rubbing at his chest absentmindedly, which put Rayla on edge. The children all bowed politely and said their goodbyes, before the adults shooed them away and did the exact same thing. Rayla lifted an eyebrow when Callum took her hand in his on their way down the big stairs to the entrance hall, and turned slightly in his direction to catch his eye. He had that calculating look as he glanced over his shoulder, and smiled apologetically at her when they reached the first landing.

“Permission to do something potentially inappropriate?” He murmured, barely moving his lips.

Rayla affected a wide eyed and innocent expression. “I can’t be held responsible for m’actions if y’do.”

Callum waited until they had reached the bottom of the staircase, and were halfway across the hall before he acted on his plan. He spun her around and cupped her face with his left hand as he kissed her tenderly. She leaned back with a lazy smile, completely content. As Callum retrieved their cloaks, Rayla noticed one of the many cousins walking down the stairs towards them; Callum made a bit of a show as he helped Rayla with her cloak, taking care to make sure their hands touched and finding excuses to stroke her hair by smoothing it back from her face.

“Your Highness,” the woman bowed deeply, and Callum turned to reciprocate her polite gesture.

“Lady Julianna. How can I help you?”

She glanced at Rayla, doing that once over thing that Princess Irene liked to do, which pissed her off instantly. “The Councillor would like me to check your travel arrangements, given the state of the weather.”

“Thank you for your concern, but we have already accounted for that.” Callum said smoothly.

“Are you completely sure, my Lord?” she asked, eyes flicking in Rayla’s direction but not actually looking at her. “We would be more than happy to provide an escort for you.”

The way she said the word ‘you’ made Rayla bristle. She couldn’t quite tell if the woman was insinuating that Rayla posed a threat, or that she wasn’t skilled enough to protect Callum. Both were pretty ludicrous notions; Rayla had been a prodigy from the moment she had learnt how to run (and Runaan wouldn’t let anyone in the Silvergrove ever forget it), and if she had wanted Callum dead none of them would be stood here having this conversation. She pulled herself up short when Callum surreptitiously dug his elbow into her ribs.

“Please, there’s no need. We will be all right on the return journey, just as we were on the way here.” He shot Rayla a warning look as the woman bowed and turned to leave.

Going to great pains to not look like a petulant child, Rayla waited until they were outside before she scowled openly. “The fuckin’ nerve,” she growled quietly to herself.

Callum chuckled and took her hand as they walked towards the inn.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” She spat at him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Callum said glibly.

Rayla squeezed his hand, hard. “I could drag you into an alley and gut you like a fish. They wouldn’t know ‘til sunrise and they’d never find me.”

“You won’t.”

Rayla turned to look him full in the face, working to look thoroughly unimpressed but really, she was becoming more and more aroused.

Callum’s grin was blinding. “You’ll take me back to your bed, tie me to the posts, and have your way with me until moonset. Face it, I’m more valuable to you alive.”

Rayla gave him a very predatory smile, and slid her fingers under his sleeve to feel for the spike in his pulse. She appraised him rather dispassionately. “Prove it.” She challenged in a low voice.

Callum’s eyes were midnight dark in the dim light as they crossed the square. With slow deliberation, he lifted her hand to his lips, and gave her a lingering kiss. “It will be my _pleasure_ ,”

XOXO

In the small hours of the morning, Rayla woke up. She was instantly aware that Callum had a temperature, and probably having a bad dream too; he was lying on his back, brow creased, his breathing _just_ uneven enough to make her concerned. She smoothed his brow gently, and wiped his hair back to try and cool him down a bit. Very gently, because she didn’t want to wake him and was afraid of hurting him, she touched the scars on his chest. His skin was too warm to the touch, and she went to light the nearest candles to give her more light.

A thin film of sweat slicked his skin, and the scars were darker than normal; the purple stains were more pronounced, and he looked bruised, like he had been in a scrap and come out quite badly. She wracked her brains to try and think how he could have possibly been injured that evening, but nothing they had done could have caused this. Callum’s breath suddenly came in a sigh, and he went limp. Rayla held still for a long moment, only daring to breathe when he inhaled heavily again. She didn’t know if she should wake him up or not; more often than not he slept these episodes off, but she wasn’t aware if he had ever had an episode while he was asleep. It was different to the nightmares that sometimes plagued him; when that happened, he would get restless and mumble in his sleep, and usually woke up with a jolt. This felt different, and she was at a loss for what to do.

Callum turned his head in his sleep, away from her, and she checked his pulse. It was a little erratic, but nothing that caused her immediate concern. Then he turned again, face towards the ceiling, and his back arched slightly as a small whimper of pain escaped his lips.

Rayla murmured his name as she stroked his face, gently coaxing him to wake up. He shifted under her hands, and she embraced him, still caressing his face and hair as she spoke to him soothingly. His breathing hitched, like he was holding back a sob, and something wet touched her cheek. Then, Callum jerked, and she felt his damp lashes flutter as he opened his eyes.

“Shh,” she murmured as he dissolved into quiet sobs in her arms, clinging to her like she was a rock in a storm-tossed sea.

Eventually, he calmed down enough to sit up and look her in the eyes, with much wincing as his chest twinged painfully. Then, it took a while longer for him to find his voice, and when he did, it brought more tears to his eyes.

“I was down by the river.” He said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Like I used to when I needed to talk to my…my stepdad.” He swallowed thickly, eyes closed to stem the flood of emotion. “But it wasn’t him. I was…I _think_ I was…it was my father. My birth father. And-” Callum dissolved again, and Rayla wrapped him up in her arms and kissed the crown of his head. “I could…I could _see_ him, so clearly, but…” he squashed down a sob, giving himself hiccups in the process. “I can’t remember… _anything_ , now.”

Rayla felt pretty useless as she held him close. There wasn’t anything she could offer him except her presence, and it didn’t feel like enough. After a while, Callum drew back and wiped his face on his night shirt, putting a lot of effort into pulling himself together.

“Can I get you anythin’?” Rayla murmured quietly, kissing his hair again.

She was relieved when he gave her a small, shaky chuckle, and an even smaller, watery smile. “Some tea would be nice.”

“Stay here,” she kissed his cheek and slid out of the bed.

Because he was Callum, he didn’t take the blindest bit of notice, and wandered into the sitting room as she was pouring the water. When she sniped at him to get his backside back into bed, he flopped onto the couch and didn’t move. Not having the heart to forcefully kick him back into the bedroom, Rayla just rolled her eyes and continued with what she was doing.

“My life would be so much easier if you just listened to me.” She told him as she handed over a mug of mint and chamomile tea.

“Nope.” Callum said quietly before blowing on his drink.

“Excuse me.” Rayla said flatly, trying to warn him indirectly that she was getting close to the end of her rope.

“Your life would be so much more _dull_ if I just did as I was told.” His smile was tired and watery, but genuine.

Rayla made a gesture like she was considering wringing his neck before she slid from the arm rest onto the cushions beside him. “You okay?” she asked softly as he set the mug down and buried himself in her arms.

It took a long moment for him to collect himself, but eventually he spoke, looking her right in the eye. “Yeah. Just sad, I guess. I don’t know anything about him, really. And the dream was…” he cast around for the right words. “So _vivid_.” He looked down and sighed, and didn’t complain when Rayla put the mug back into his hands and urged him to drink.

They sat on the couch for a long time, watching the coals settle in the grate. What little Callum knew about his birth father he had shared with Rayla already: he was called Ethan, and had been the village postman, as well as a courier for the nearby hamlets that didn’t have their own post office. He had had dark hair and green eyes, like Callum, and had died from a fever when his son was only months old. As far as Callum knew, he had no other family on that side; he only had Ezran and Amaya from his mother’s side. He rarely, if ever at all, spoke about the man, but he hadn’t been upset or cagey when Rayla had hesitantly asked about it. The blunt truth was that Callum didn’t miss him because he didn’t know him; Harrow’s death weighed far more heavily on him than his birth father’s. He had admitted sheepishly that when he was young, he had wanted to know more about his father, but had been too afraid to ask his stepfather – he had ended up having to wait for his aunt to visit the castle before he could get any answers. And there hadn’t been all that much to tell, really.

Callum sighed, pulling Rayla out of her thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she kissed his temple, and felt his brow before reaching for his scars. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly with a sigh before he nuzzled deeper into her embrace. “I didn’t think I was that upset about it. I…sorry,” he laughed nervously. “I don’t- I dunno where that came from.”

Rayla tried to hide her frown, but of course Callum picked up on it. When he prodded a bit harder, she admitted, “You’ve got a temperature.”

Callum blinked and looked down at himself, and winced when he poked at his scars. “Ouch. No wonder my chest feels tight,” he knew instantly he had let too much slip, and winced as Rayla came down on him like an avalanche with pointed questions about his physical wellbeing.

In the end, he consented to her tending to the wound, one more cup of tea and then bed, as well as promising faithfully (and admittedly under duress) to go see Brock at the first opportunity. Rayla tended to the wound in silence, but it was a comfortable quiet; Callum found excuses to touch her hands, play with her hair, and to kiss her cheek at every opportunity, and she reciprocated each gesture fondly. When the wound was treated, Rayla dosed him with his medicine, and made some more tea before curling up with him on the sofa. He still felt too warm to be completely healthy, but he didn’t wince in pain and his breathing was slow, deep and regular again.

After a while, Callum asked tentatively, “You…y’know how you once said everyone used to tell you that you were like your parents, and Runaan and Ethari as well?”

Rayla smiled. “Yeah. I got m’parent’s best qualities, and learnt Runaan’s and Ethari’s best habits.” It was Ethari’s favourite way of describing her upbringing – she used to laugh at the facetious undertone, but she was realising as she got older how apt it really was. She was brave like both her parents, cunning like her mother and tenacious and heedless of her own safety like her father; she had learnt how to apply compassion from Ethari, and ruthless, rigorous discipline from Runaan. Her upbringing had been somewhat atypical, but she knew she was lucky to have so many good role models in her life.

Callum’s pensive expression made Rayla’s brow crease with concern. Wordlessly, she stroked his cheek, letting him know she was there, however he needed her. He smiled sadly, tears swimming in his eyes before he turned his head to kiss the heel of her palm. “I don’t know how much of me is from either of them. Everyone keeps telling me how like Harrow I am. And…I can’t help but wonder, who would I be, if my birth father had raised me?”

Rayla sighed, and leaned her brow against his. “I don’t know. But you are who you are, because of your experiences.”

Callum took a deep, steadying breath. “I know.” He murmured, looking her in the eye. “I know that. I just…I can’t help but think sometimes: _what if_?”

“Callum,” she gave him a wry smile. “Remember that that question can drive you insane.”

He chuckled, and kissed her cheek. “I know.” He agreed. “We should probably get some rest.”

“C’mon,” she gently helped him to his feet, and accepted his warm, squishy hug. “Y’know I’m here,” she told him quietly. “If you ever need me.”

Callum’s expression was so tender it felt like a needle in her heart. “I love you,” he told her simply. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Give Ez a lot more headaches,” she teased weakly, and was gratified to see his smile strengthening again. “C’mon, now. _Bed_.”

They curled up under the covers for a few more hours; Callum fell asleep quickly, but Rayla’s mind was too busy. She dozed on and off but didn’t fall asleep again. Aside from watching Callum’s health, she was thinking about how to best compensate for his fragile state on the off chance they were attacked on route. It seemed unlikely, but she was too well versed in the consequences of not being fully prepared. By the time Callum roused himself into wakefulness, Rayla already had a series of plans mapped out in her mind, and kept turning them over as they made ready to leave.

Cain was sad to see Rayla go, and she was prepared for that; she gave him a little wooden carving she had done while Callum was in his meetings. It was a little Shadowpaw, fairly crude because she wasn’t an artist, but it sparked his imagination and he flung his arms around her in thanks, only letting go when one of his mothers came to shoo him away.

“They need to eat before they go back to the Castle. It’s a long journey on icy roads, and they don’t need any _distractions_ under their feet.” She told him sternly.

“Yes, Ma.” Cain recited blandly. He gave Rayla a grin from the front counter, and she gave him a thumbs up and a bright smile.

Her smile broadened when she turned towards Callum, catching him in the act of yawning widely. “How you have so much energy first thing in the morning, I’ll never understand.”

“You remember Runaan?” she asked cheerfully. “Y’had to be bleedin’ out, lost at least one limb, and dyin’ of plague before he accepted a sick note. I learnt t’live with it.”

Callum just shook his head, and smiled when Cain went rushing over with the little carving clutched to his chest, hissing, “Mom, _Mom_ , look what Rayla gave me!”

“What?” Rayla demanded as Callum sipped his tea daintily, putting on that air he had when he was doing politics and not giving anything away. He knew it annoyed her at best and infuriated her at worst, so this was completely deliberate.

“The kids in this town love you.” He said simply.

The head cook came to thank Rayla herself after they had eaten and were preparing to leave for the last time. She smiled awkwardly and assured the boy’s mother that it was no trouble at all.

“He’s very bright,” Rayla said, knowing full well that Cain was lurking in the shadows on the stairs and listening in.

She chuckled fondly. “He struggles a bit with his peers at school. It meant a lot to him that you took the time to listen and answer his questions. He’s never going to put that carving you gave him down,”

“Cain’s a great kid. Just wish I could’ve given him more of m’time,” Rayla rolled her eyes with a fond smile when Callum poked her in the ribs as he walked past.

“I’m sorry the paperwork took so long to fill in.”

“No you’re not.” She sniped back with a grin.

Callum grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to look him in the eye. “No, really. I’m _very_ sorry about the bureaucracy.”

Rayla scoffed, with another roll of her eyes. “Only for yourself.”

He pulled himself up, straight and tall, looking infuriatingly appealing and Prince-like when she didn’t have immediate access to contraceptives.

“I couldn’t _possibly_ comment.” He gave the cook a wry smile. “Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll get out of your way now.”

“Please,” the woman said, looking worried that she had offended him in some way. “My Lord, it was no trouble at all-”

“I think what the Prince means is that, we will be taking our nonsense elsewhere, now, so that you may all have some peace and quiet.”

Rayla beamed as one of the stable hands hovering by the doors sniggered loudly, and Callum fixed her with a weary, resigned kind of smile.

“Cain? _Quiet_?” the lad laughed into his hands.

“Lady Rayla,” Callum said after clearing his throat. “You are, without a doubt,” he leaned closer, his expression becoming incredibly soft and gooey despite the authoritative tone he was going for. “The _biggest_ nuisance I have ever had the good fortune to come across in my entire life.” He pressed her hand and went to go scoop up his bags from the table he had left them on.

Rayla couldn’t let that go, and she couldn’t say anything inflammatory that would undermine his authority here, so she settled for swearing at him in her own tongue, using an affectionate tone so it sounded like an endearment, but really she called him a bastard. Callum’s smile was bright and unapologetic as he held a hand out to her. She turned and bowed to the staff in attendance, and waved at Cain, before taking his hand and walking to the front doors.

Once they had their horses saddled, they had to stand around and wait through some ritual goodbye ceremony thing the Councillor insisted on conducting. Rayla hid her boredom as best she could, eyeing the sky every so often and surreptitiously sniffing the air for snow. Callum put on his solemn face and bowed gravely, and just went along with it all because it was infinitely easier than dealing with the fall out if he didn’t. Then, Councillor Aiden tried to snare him with further conversation once all the ridiculous pomp and ceremony was over with.

“My Lord,” Callum said carefully, subtly signing to Rayla to mount up and run for it. “I thank you for the hospitality of your people, but I really must go. The King requires me as soon as possible, and the weather is turning.”

The man blinked and looked up at the leaden sky. “Ahh- yes, your Grace.” He agreed uncertainly.

“If you do require further assistance this winter, please don’t hesitate to contact me.” Callum said before he put a foot in the stirrup.

Once he was in the saddle, he thanked the Councillor again, and the people who had congregated to see them off. They started to make their way out of the town, everyone waving and saying goodbye and thank you. Rayla was thinking to herself that it felt heart-warming to know these people were aware of and grateful for Callum and his innate…Callumness. She had seen a lot of people over the years, both human and elf, take his compassion, generosity and dedication for granted – it was good to see these traits being acknowledged. Before they could get very far a few of the town guards hurried up alongside Rayla’s horse, and she pulled to a stop. They were some of the people she had spoken to at length the other day, and they were grinning.

A large, beefy man with a claymore on his back named John grinned and said, “Can I ask a favour?”

“That depends,” she answered wryly.

“Can you tell Jennifer to fuckin’ _write_ to us? We haven’t heard in so long we genuinely thought she’d died or something.”

Rayla looked at Callum quickly, but if the man’s words hit a nerve at all after his disturbed night, it didn’t show on his face.

“Sure thing.” Rayla turned back to John. “I can smack her upside the head as well, if that helps.”

“Oh please do,” he roared with laughter. “I’m sure she’ll do something to deserve it in the first five minutes!”

Rayla turned to look at the soldier by John’s side, who looked deflated and defeated. Captain Kara smiled tiredly and held up a small package wrapped in brown paper. “Could you give this to Mattrim? Tell him it’s his uncle’s inheritance. It’s only just been sorted, and what with the weather…” she passed her pole arm between her hands, looking a little nervously up at the sky.

“Of course,” Rayla promised, tucking the packet into a saddle bag and buckling it tightly shut.

The Captain smiled. “Thank you, Rayla. Give our best to Commander Kelk, too.”

“Will do,” she saluted them all with the proper, due protocol, and grinned as they waved her and Callum off at the edge of the town.

“It’s true what they say,” Callum said lightly as the horses plodded along the road. “The military speaks a language all its own.”

Rayla laughed. “They’re a wolf pack. They look after their own, an’the pack looks after them.”

Callum laughed gently, and reached a hand out towards her. She took it, and gave him a loving squeeze. “Thank you. I don’t know how I would have coped without you this week.”

Rayla kissed his knuckles through his thick gloves in reply.

They made slower progress than they would have liked, owing to the icy conditions on the roads. Rayla halted them so she could go scouting, and they ended up cutting cross country to reach the main road that ran between cities. They had to be wary of rabbit holes and capsized tree roots among the frosted fields, but they moved more quickly. Then they wasted nearly half an hour looking for a bridge over a half-frozen river; when they were finally on the other side, the main thoroughfare in view, Rayla turned and really looked at Callum. He was pensive, lost in his own thoughts, which seemed to be creeping down a dark avenue. Rayla leaned out of her saddle to scoop up some snow, squashed it into a bad, very un-aerodynamic ball, and tossed it at him. The ball exploded on impact, and Callum yelped, almost losing his seat.

Rayla smiled repentantly as he gave her a dour look. “You okay?” she asked gently, thinking about what had happened earlier.

Callum sighed, and gazed ahead for a long time in silence. Rayla knew better than to push at this point, and waited with all the patience at her disposal. It was a relief when he finally spoke.

“I guess…I just miss him. All of them.” He shrugged helplessly and looked down at the reins in his hands. “It was such a strange dream. And when I woke up, my chest was hurting,”

“Has that happened a lot recently?” When he jumped and stared dead ahead, back ramrod straight, Rayla narrowed her eyes at him. “ _Callum_.”

“I wouldn’t say… _a lot_ , technically?” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. When he looked around at her, he bulked, and his mount tossed her head with an uneasy snort.

“So help me, Callum, if I have to tie you to the floor to stop you from doin’ somethin’ _incredibly_ stupid, I will.” Rayla growled.

Callum sighed heavily, eyes downcast.

Rayla looked away, her mouth twisting at the corner with her anxiety. Knowing that he always appreciated her honesty, she fell back on blurting out her worries for him.

“Y’know I nag ye because I care, right?”

Callum laughed. It was a soft, gentle sound, and when he met her gaze, his expression was incredibly tender. “I know. I count on it.” He said simply. He directed his horse to walk closer to hers, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. He smiled when she tilted her head at the last moment so that he caught her mouth instead, and indulged her with a slow, lingering kiss.

Soon after they were back on the main road, and they made faster progress towards the capital, alternating between trotting and cantering. They saw a few people here and there, but they went unseen for the most part; everyone was trying to beat the encroaching weather, so they didn’t notice the elf travelling with a human noble. One girl gaped and pointed at Rayla as they passed by, exclaiming loudly to her uncle, but once they were clear of the wagon convoy, Callum and Rayla urged their mounts into a canter again, so she didn’t hear what was said.

Sometime after midday, they were a little under halfway to the Castle, and Rayla was thinking about bringing up the topic of lunch, when Callum gasped and clutched the back of his neck suddenly. His horse snorted with surprise and danced sideways, and Rayla lunged for the reins to keep the animal from bolting.

“What is it?” she demanded urgently.

Callum had his hands pressed against his neck and the base of his skull, wincing as though from a sound that she couldn’t hear. “That,” he pointed to the west. “We need to get back as soon as possible.”

Rayla turned in the direction he indicated. It looked like a fluffy, leaden cloud – like every other cloud in the overcast sky. Though she couldn’t perceive it yet, she trusted Callum’s judgement.

“How long do we have?”

“Dunno. A few hours, maybe?” he slowly let go of his neck and put his hands on the pommel of the saddle. “Do we have any wood betony? This headache isn’t going away any time soon,”

Rayla did a quick search of her saddle bags, and tossed him a small tincture bottle before she rationed out some dried fruits and nuts for lunch. Once Callum had taken the medicine, she handed him the food, and they ate as their horses plodded down the road. By the time they had finished, the wind was shifting, and Callum squirmed uncomfortably.

“That bad?”

“Oh yeah,” he grimaced, rubbing his temple with his free hand as he struggled with his horse tossing her head, snatching at the bit with a disgruntled snort. “It’s a doosy.”

The wind shifted again, and Rayla caught it – the faint whiff of an approaching snowstorm. She turned to look again, and found the clouds on the eastern horizon growing darker, and tinged distinctly yellow.

“Ohhh,” she said slowly. “That’s not good.”

“Do you think it’s safe to canter?”

“As long as there’s no one else on the road. I don’t like the look of that,” she pointed at the brewing storm.

They rode hard and fast, taking a number of detours cross country wherever possible. Rayla kept her senses strained for possible danger, but the only thing that posed a threat was the weather front, still a few hours away from reaching them. Callum kept up with the pace, but she could tell he was getting tired very quickly. They stopped briefly to drink and to water their horses, and Rayla grabbed a handful of moonberries to keep him going.

Rather than follow the windy road that led to the Castle via the capital, Rayla selected a lesser known route that the soldiers liked to take when they were feeling especially lazy. It cut across another road that ran towards the Banther Lodge, and shaved a good twenty minutes off their travel time. or at least, it would have if Nia hadn’t appeared over the treetops and swooped down to join them.

Rayla felt a little prickle up her spine; it reminded her of how they had met Nyx, and while she liked Nia, the connection was not a pleasant one.

“I thought I recognised you two.” Nia said pleasantly, rubbing her arms and stamping her feet to keep warm, wings beating reflexively in an effort to keep the blood flowing.

“It was the scarf, wasn’t it?” Rayla said wryly, and beamed when Callum gave her that wide eyed and startled look of his.

Nia chuckled. “How’s the headache?” It turned into laughter at Callum’s grimace. “It’s going to be quite some storm. I’ve told all the Sky Mages absolutely no flying unless it’s an emergency.”

“The duty guard should be informed.” Callum said, absently pressing his fingers into his temple.

“It’s on the to do list.” Nia confirmed. “Did you want some company on the last leg? The others are just over there,” she nodded towards a thicket of grey, leafless trees someway off to their right.

Rayla really didn’t feel like it, but Callum was still in politician mode, so he politely agreed, and only saw Rayla’s expression after he had turned in the direction Nia had indicated and urged his horse forward.

“Err…is that okay?” he asked uncertainly.

“It’s fine,” she said in a low voice.

The group was predominantly healers and medics, with a couple of guards thrown in. Marcos waved merrily, and Callum touched her arm before directing his horse towards Ariadne. Rayla got out of the saddle and bumped fists with Marcos and Sabah, smiling despite her dampened mood. Everyone but the Sky Mages were in high spirits – the turning weather was having an adverse effect on them, but they were nonetheless joining in. Something about a rare kind of flower that only bloomed in the snow, which had got the botanically minded individuals all fired up and that Brock was enthusiastic about because of its healing properties if prepared _just_ right.

It was good to see them all again, and nice to see that everyone was still getting along really well. It was even nice to see Aibeck and Malra; they gave her a relatively warm greeting, at least by Moonshadow standards, and hung round to ask after her weekend and comment on the approaching storm.

Before long the group had what they needed and were ready to set off for the Castle. They moved more slowly because of their number (a little over two score), but with more eyes and ears alert it was certainly more safe; you’d have to be mad or desperate to attack such a large and well equipped group.

Rayla slid in beside Callum, who turned to her with a soft smile despite the headache she knew was pounding in his skull. He pressed her hand discreetly, and kept his horse close to hers. Ariadne gave her a beleaguered look when she noticed Rayla’s presence, and the elf cocked her head to one side.

“Yeah?” she prompted.

Ariadne sighed heavily. “There’s a letter waiting for you in the post tower. _Please_ go deal with it. The Crow Master’s been on my case every other day since you left.”

Rayla arched an eyebrow in response to this, and glanced at Malra’s pensive expression in response to Ariadne’s words. “Any particular reason you’re gettin’ harassed over a letter?”

“I don’t know!” she groaned, fidgeting with Pebbles’ mane. “Everyone’s just assuming I’m a welfare officer for the delegates now, apparently. Something about the seal being _super_ official so they couldn’t forward it without approval from- that’s the other thing!” she rounded on Callum. “The Crow Lord was on leave. _Again_. For the whole fucking week.”

“Yes?” Callum said uncertainly. “I’m pretty sure he put in for that months in advance.”

She glowered at him before exploding with her agitation. “I _swear_ to the _fucking_ Gods, Callum. That man has more holidays than anyone else in the entire kingdom! Does the fucker even _exist_?! I can’t remember the last time I actually even _saw_ him,”

While Callum was calmly and patiently listening to her rant, Rayla drew back enough to be able to see Malra, who obligingly directed Io to get closer as they walked behind the other two. She raised an eyebrow when the Moonstrider chomped good naturedly on Pebbles’ tail, and the horse didn’t bat an eyelid.

“What letter? What seal?”

Malra pulled a face and went stony for a moment. “From the Dragon Queen.” She said eventually, and Rayla’s heart started pounding.

Was it from the Dragon Queen herself? Or the Dragonguard? Other than her parents, she couldn’t think who from the Spire would be contacting her. She barely noticed the look of concern Malra gave her until she got a dig in the ribs, and Rayla jumped almost out of her skin, pulse still racing and suddenly feeling like bolting for the hills.

“You…okay?” Malra asked hesitantly in a low voice.

Rayla gulped and turned to look at Callum’s back; he was still listening to Ariadne, unaware of her anxious state. “Yeah, fine,” she said quickly, adjusting her seat and focusing on her mount instead.

They both looked up when Aibeck trotted past on his Shadowpaw, and gave Ariadne an overly warm pat on the head as he drew level with her. She told him to fuck off in a specific dialect, that he apparently understood because it made him chuckle.

“I can confirm,” Callum said gently. “That he _did_ apply for leave this week. Maybe not the _whole_ week,” he admitted. “But he was meant to be off duty over the weekend.”

“Please, release me from this misery.” Ariadne said dramatically, eyes closed and gesticulating wildly. “I don’t know why everyone expects me to know what you two are up to but please, make them _stop_ …”

“That’s all right,” Aibeck said brightly, ruffling up her hair and getting a death glare in response. “We can just go on a campaign tonight in Offensive Dungeon Tactics.”

Rayla raised an eyebrow, and watched closely as Callum’s head snapped around to fix Ariadne in place; the woman quailed under his gaze. “ _What_?” he asked flatly.

“Okay, it isn’t as bad as it sounds,” she insisted. “Shut up, Aibeck,” she added, pointing at him menacingly without turning to look.

He threw his head back and cackled, and Malra slumped so low in her saddle that Io grunted and reached around to nose at her. Rayla looked her up and down, and then poked her arm for a response.

“Kill me.” Malra begged. “End this eternal sufferin’ that we call life. Be my mercy and salvation.”

“What the fuck are ye’all on about?” Rayla demanded to know, and considered throwing one of her swords at Aibeck when he laughed again.

“It’s not actually that bad,” Ariadne contested. “Fuck off Callum and let me explain. Stop looking at me like that!”

“You see this face?” he went on in his flat tone, pointing. “This is the face of someone who doesn’t trust you to behave. What did you _do_?”

“It’s just a game!” Aibeck crowed with a grin, and when he appealed to the rest of the group, he got a smattering of chuckles and laughter, and a handful of groans.

“Can someone please explain what’s goin’ on?” Rayla asked dully.

“Does the phrase ‘Dungeon Tactics’ mean anything to you?” Ariadne asked over her shoulder clumsily.

“Yeah? That weird board game Ez and Soren enjoy so much?”

Rayla never understood board games. Runaan had taught her to play chess and gis, and Soren tried to entice her into playing a bunch of other weird and random games, but she just didn’t get what was so appealing about them. Dungeon Tactics was basically a game where you could create your own story and play out scenarios, and get royally screwed over with a single dice throw.

“Okay, so we started a tournament, but the rule was the character you built had to be as offensive a stereotype as possible, to your own people,”

Callum was caught somewhere between being thoroughly unimpressed and downright alarmed by this news. “Please tell me there hasn’t been a war since I left.”

“Oh, the Castle’s still standing and everything. We’ve got a bunch of other, proper campaigns for people who don’t want to take part. There’s just eight of us in the Offensive league.” Ariadne tried to hide her laughter. “It’s a lot of fun. And!” she added in response to the glower Callum was giving her. “It’s actually been a useful way of learning about each other’s cultures!”

Rayla snorted derisively. “Through the medium of…what, exactly?”

Ariadne considered for a long moment, and by the time she was ready to reply, Callum was deflating with exhaustion. “Satire?” she ventured.

Malra hung her head. “I hate you all.”

Aibeck turned in the saddle and beamed at Rayla, which prompted her to raise an eyebrow. Since when did this idiot get so openly chummy?

“Y’don’t _hafta_ walk with us.”

Malra poked Io hard in the back of the head. “It’s not _my_ first choice.” She answered scathingly.

“C’mere,” Ariadne directed Pebbles, and Io fell into step beside the horse, neatly pushing Aibeck and his own mount out of the way.

Rayla took the opportunity to slide in alongside Callum and nudge him away from the main body of the crowd; he looked like he was rapidly deteriorating. When Nia approached on foot she had half a mind to tell the elf to bugger off, but figured it was best not to turn away Callum’s surrogate Sky magic mentor who also happened to be a competent Healer.

“Chew this,” she said, holding up a handful of some nasty smelling herb that made Callum groan. “Two minutes of unpleasantness, and that headache won’t bother you again.” She turned and looked pointedly at the skyline over the trees. “Judging by those clouds, we’ll need it.”

Callum took the herbs from her, and stared at them mutinously as she went back to deal with one of the Skywing elves who was likewise suffering from a severe headache.

“You sure you’re okay?” Rayla asked in a low voice.

Callum grimaced. “I’ll be all right. If I puke, please cause a distraction so I still have some dignity left.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she gave him a low and flamboyant bow that had her leaning far out of the saddle.

He rolled his eyes before closing them and tilting his head back. “Show off.” He accused, and stuffed the offending herb into his mouth.

While Callum struggled to take his medicine like an adult, Rayla thought about the letter waiting for her in the post office. It was stupid, childish, even, but her heart was racing and her palms were slicked with sweat beneath her gloves. Who had written to her, and why? And why had they used such an official seal? She wasn’t _that_ important.

It took a long moment to realise that Callum had noticed her mounting distress, and had gently led his horse further away from the crowd, Rayla unconsciously following him. He touched her wrist gently, and she snapped up with a start.

“You…okay?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, fine.” She said quickly. “I got a letter to pick up, that’s all.”

“Because-”

“There’s nothin’ else.” She said shortly.

“Okay,” Callum put his hands up in surrender.

“Good.” Rayla snapped back.

She felt incredibly guilty when her heart had slowed down a bit. But because he was Callum, he put up with her tempestuous mood and they walked back to the Castle in a relatively amicable silence while the rest of the group chatted loudly amongst themselves. With Malra and Aibeck nearby, Rayla put everything she had into remaining outwardly calm, but Callum saw right through it – he always saw her inner state no matter what airs she put on. He stayed close by, and once touched her arm comfortingly, and while she didn’t make any overt move or gesture to acknowledge it, she gave him a small, grateful smile.

XOXO

Their arrival back at the Castle was rather hectic; the healers and medics were fairly rowdy on their own, but once the guard noted Rayla and Callum’s presence they were both bombarded. Callum had just enough time to tell Rayla to come have supper with him and Ezran later before the other soldiers whisked her away, package for Mattrim in hand, and Amaya descending upon her from the battlements above with a look of determination.

Callum himself found the way to the stables blocked by Lord Tarren, who looked upset and flustered and took a lot of calming down before he made any sense. Callum felt like a wilted flower; the memory and grief for the parent he had never known, on top of the long hours spent dealing with Councillor Aiden and the impending storm brewing on the horizon, left him with little energy to spare. Once he managed to politely shake off the viscount, Opeli found him and took him to one side to explain a rather delicate diplomatic situation had arisen with Neolandia, and the King required his presence immediately.

That meeting took the form of Ezran having a meltdown in Callum’s study, with lots of breathing exercises and soothing tea before they could even start thinking about a constructive plan. The young King of Neolandia was kicking up a fuss about the Summit, threatening to not turn up at all, but only choosing to bring these grievances to Katolis’ attention and no one else in the Pentarchy. The things he was demanding should really have been laid out at a Summit of The Pentarchy, not sent to just one monarch, as had been done.

It was all just a juvenile attempt to get what he wanted through a temper tantrum, crudely designed to force Ezran’s hand. King Dorian was older that Ezran, but a lot less experienced; Seb had remarked to Callum one evening in close confidence that he was rather a lot like his older brother Kasef, with the exception that he was a lot more indulgent because he had spent his childhood under the impression that he would not be shouldering the responsibilities of the Crown.

Ezran seemed to have been doing his utmost to keep up with everything in Callum’s absence, and had been doing a good job until King Dorian had thrown this particular spanner into the works.

Callum smiled tiredly, hugged his little brother and told him to just forget about it for the rest of the day, promising to return to the problem in the morning refreshed and ready to tackle it, reasoning that with only a few office hours left in the day, they couldn’t really do much about it.

“I’m sorry,” Ezran sniffled, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep, unsteady breath. “I should be able to deal with this myself.”

“Don’t be,” Callum gave him another loving squeeze. “We all have moments where we can’t cope. Like I said, let’s just have a nice, relaxing evening, sleep on it, and start again tomorrow.”

Ezran leaned against his shoulder with a watery smile. “You look tired,” he said with a barely contained sigh. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Messy weather front approaching. That, and I slept badly last night.”

“Yeah, Nia said it’s a bad one. I asked Amaya to get the guard to prepare the Castle for it,”

“Good thinking,” Callum ruffled his hair affectionately, and asked if there was any paperwork left to file for the day. He helped to get the last little tasks done, Bait getting in the way under their feet, because he had been largely ignored during Ezran’s meltdown, and trying to eat Callum’s stationary.

They had a nice evening meal together, with Rayla somewhat conspicuously absent. Ezran questioned this, and accepted that she had work to catchup on and a letter to collect. He knew about the Dragon Queen’s seal, but nothing else; all he said was, “I hope everything’s alright,” a little anxiously.

When the meal was over, Ezran insisted on an early night for the pair of them because they were both very tired, and Callum didn’t protest. They said goodnight and parted ways, and Callum was in bed well before eight in the evening. He left his windows unlocked in case Rayla made a night-time visit, and propped himself up in bed reading a book while the winds picked up and fat flakes of snow began drifting past the windows.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but Callum woke up in the middle of the night to find Rayla bending over him with a wry smile as she lifted the book off his face. With a yawn he sat up awkwardly and asked, “What time is it?”

“Gone three.”

Callum blinked in the dim light from the coals in the grate, and conjured a mage light so he could see her more clearly. Rayla sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed and he saw the red rimming her eyes, the tear tracks staining her cheeks and collar.

“I’m going to ask a _really_ stupid question.” He stated simply, and smiled when Rayla gave a small but genuine laugh. “You want to stay here for the rest of the night?”

“Yeah…” she leaned her elbows forward on her knees, wringing a roll of parchment between her hands. She got up and dropped it onto the dresser before she tugged off her boots. She gave him an apologetic smile as she pulled off her clothes, and said, “Brace y’self.”

Callum did his best, but he still squeaked in a most undignified manner when she dived under the covers with him. “The things we do for love,” he lamented as she snuggled up against his body.

“You’re warm.” She mumbled into his nightshirt, incredibly cuddly as she wound her arms around him.

Callum looked her in the eye, studying her dear face closely. “You’re beautiful.” He told her gently.

Rayla smiled and leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose before she snuggled into the crook of his neck and settled down to sleep. It took him a while to do the same, because she was cold from her sojourn across the rooftops in the wind and snow, but he eventually drifted off into a dreamless sleep again.

In the grey light of dawn, under a particularly leaden sky that promised even more snow, Callum awoke to find Rayla playing with his hair and kissing his ear lovingly. He yawned widely, stretched, and cuddled up closer to her, enjoying the warmth of her presence before he had to get up and deal with the mess Neolandia’s young king had created.

After a long and comfortable silence, he asked a little hesitantly, “Is everything okay?”

Rayla sighed heavily, and reluctantly slid out of bed. Callum leaned over to light the candles on the bedside table, and sat up as Rayla returned, letter in hand. She passed it to him, and burrowed down under the covers, curving herself around his waist and into his hand when he reached down to stroke her hair, deliberately making her horns rub against his fingers.

“I don’t know how I feel.” She admitted in a small voice.

Callum unrolled the letter slowly, and looked down on a cursive that was surprisingly as scrappy as Rayla’s, but in a different and distinct way; it was more slanted and less loopy, and the dots on letters and punctuation were drawn as full, little circles.

_Dear Rayla_

_It’s so good to hear from you. We’re doing just fine – it’s good to be back at the Spire, if a bit quiet. Except when there’s a storm. Confidentially, if you have any tips on how to keep a storm dragonling under control I’d very much appreciate it. The Dragon Prince comes up to my shoulder now, and he gets very excited when you or your friends are mentioned. I think he can’t wait to see you again; the equinox can’t come fast enough._

_We get the odd dusting of snow, but it’s very dry here most of the year. Would be cold enough for icicles if there was enough moisture. We get the odd storm in the winter too. Again, any tips on storm dragonlings would be very appreciated. It’s just five of us at the moment – brought in a couple of old hands to keep up the defences while a new Guard is selected. Lots of pomp, ceremony and protocol and all that, all of which I’m sure you’ll deeply appreciate!_

_We heard from Ethari and Runaan a few weeks ago – sounds like the old blade is coping, but as taciturn as ever. How you and Ethari put up with him all those years I’ll never know._

_I’m glad to hear you’re having fun in between duties. There was a communication for the Dragon Queen from Lux Aurea last week about the exchange trip – the Sunfire elves are all very happy with how things are going in Katolis. Everyone here’s a bit on tenterhooks about the Summit – I’m a lot less concerned after your analysis of the situation, I know you wouldn’t keep quiet if something was deeply amiss. Heel dragging is a fairly standard tactic; they’ll either get their act together or get left by the wayside. From the sounds of it there’s not much to be overly concerned for._

_Rayla, I don’t know what will happen at the hearing. I can’t really offer anything to help. Just know that your mother and I are glad you have good friends who are looking out for you. We are considering staying with the Dragonguard indefinitely, and I’m sure the Dragon Queen (and his Grace, The Dragon Prince) will always welcome you at the Storm Spire._

_Whatever happens, do what is right for you._

_Your Mum says hi and hopes you’re well, and thinks Katolis sounds a lot more soggy than the Moonshadow Forest. Your mother also says remember the iron tonic if you’re feeling run down. If you’ve heard from Ethari I’m sure Runaan’s already got to you. One more time from us then, just in case, just so you know we’re not neglecting to nag you as well._

_Stay safe and well, my darling. The spring can’t come fast enough_

_All our love_

_Mum and Dad_

_PS don’t feel bad about being short. I’m quite sure you’re taller than your mother is at the very least_

****

**_PPS if your father doesn’t make it to the Summit its because I killed him_ **

Callum read in silence, occasionally having to press his lips together to avoid laughing or smiling inappropriately. He didn’t know Rayla’s parents at all, really, but he knew enough about Moonshadow society to make an educated guess. While Moonshadow elves had taken the concept of plausible deniability to an art form, if you understood their culture, you knew which cues to focus on and which to ignore, that would fill in the broader context of a situation.

Rayla lifted her head a little and pressed her chin against his side, plucking at the hem of his nightshirt unconsciously in her agitation. Callum kissed the crown of her head, and handed the letter back to her. She sat up and fixed him with an intent look, and he gazed back placidly.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Well what?” he asked pleasantly, avoiding the kind of maddeningly calm tone that would only wind her up further still.

Rayla straightened out the parchment in her hands, and then showed him the broken seal. “If it wasn’t that urgent, why did they send _this_?”

Callum blinked uncomprehendingly. “The Dragonguard probably has access to those kinds of resources.”

“I’m not that important,” Rayla said dismissively, rolling the letter up again. She sat for a long moment, wringing it in her hands, before she unfurled it again and scanned down the writing once more.

“You’re their daughter.” Calum reminded her gently.

“They never _used_ to use that seal.” She muttered under her breath.

Callum fought the urge to start laughing. He gently tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. “Probably because before they didn’t have several layers of security to get their letters through. Even Ethari needed to get the Silvergrove Council to stamp his letter to get it into the barracks,”

Rayla turned on him with a glower, and he knew he had won the argument. He let her concede gracelessly while she struggled to line up her thoughts and feelings on the matter.

“I hate it when you’re right.” She said eventually, dumping the letter on the bedside table and rolling over to lie down with her back to him in a huff.

Callum waited for a respectable length of time before he snuggled up against her back. She sighed and ran her hands over his arms, bringing his right hand to her lips briefly before nuzzling back as he pressed his face into her neck.

“They love you.” He said simply. “And they miss you. And I think they don’t quite know how to approach it, either.”

Rayla sighed and went completely limp, all the tension leaving her as she exhaled. Callum kissed her collar bone gently, and waited for her to speak.

Eventually, she did, with a sigh to say that Amaya wanted her help every day until the official Solstice holiday. She then tentatively asked about Neolandia, and Callum rolled his eyes dramatically.

“It’s probably nothing.” He told her, giving her one last squeeze before he forced himself to get up. “Dorian’s just having a hissy fit.”

Rayla snorted softly as she reluctantly followed him. “Am I allowed to know what he demanded? Soren wouldn’t say,”

Callum shrugged as he stretched his arms above his head. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he brought his own down to hold her. “Just making ridiculous demands about the Summit in Lux Aurea, wanting Katolis to comply with his wishes or else he’ll pull out of the whole thing. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He kissed her cheek. “It’ll take a while to unpick everything. We’ll probably send some sarcastically remorseful letter back asking to call a Summit in the Pentarchy to deal with it properly. That’ll shut him up.”

“There’s no rest, is there?” Rayla lamented as she spun away from him on her back leg towards the dresser where her hairbrush was.

“None for the wicked.” Callum grinned.

They both got dressed, ate quickly, and after Rayla had bundled herself up for the long, cold, and desperately miserable trek back to the barracks, they continued to procrastinate over their departures. Callum would have liked to have a lazy morning, but there was just too much to do before the holidays. They said goodbye over several lingering and increasingly heated kisses, unwilling to let each other go. He had a feeling that he probably would have caved and given into their lust if Ezran hadn’t walked into the room.

“Hey Callum, I thought a bit about what you said, about sending King Dorian a letter, and – oh _c’mon_!” Ezran exclaimed loudly when he finally looked up from the papers in his hands.

Rayla gave Callum a long-suffering look, her arms still wound around his neck. “I’ll be seein’ ye. _If_ I survive Amaya.”

Callum kissed her nose. “I’ll see you tonight?”

She bit his lip very deliberately, trying to angle away so that Ezran couldn’t see. But of course he knew what was up, and made a sound like he was vomiting into the hearth. “Nine?”

“Perfect.”

“See ya then,” Rayla touched his face again longingly before she turned and fell gracefully over the lip of the window onto the roof below, immediately engulfed by the high bank of snow.

Callum shut the window as she disappeared from sight, and turned his attention to Ezran. He scowled down at his older brother, and Callum noted the way that Bait sighed heavily and grumped his way towards the fire side. Apparently, the glow toad was getting fed up with his attitude.

“You two are disgusting,” Ezran spat at him, already in a foul mood despite how young the day was.

“Yup.” Callum agreed vaguely. He thought idly that if Ezran reacted badly to a kiss, it was a very good thing he had yet to come across them in a far more compromising position.

“So are we going to look at this mess or what?” Ezran demanded, trying to go for a kingly and commanding air and only succeeding in looking petulant.

Callum patted his shoulder and handed him a pastry. “My study or yours?”

“Actually,” the angst melted away, and he just looked like an awkward teenager again. Shuffling nervously, he mumbled, “Can we do it here? I’m less likely to be found…”

“Of course,” Callum grabbed a chair from the jumbled pile under the bay window and dragged it to his tiny study on the other side of the room. “Can you get my ledger from the sideboard?”

They gathered everything together, Callum nudged Ezran into the more comfortable chair, and they set about fixing the political mess before it had a chance to escalate further. By lunch time they had a solid plan, and well before the end of the afternoon they had a beautifully crafted letter that neatly boxed the King of Neolandia into a little restrictive corner with minimal options for collateral damage. Ezran gave it to Opeli to proofread, and then brought Callum up to speed with High Council business. They went for an indoor walk around the Castle, dodging courtiers and councilmen along the way, and Callum filled him in on what had happened in Verdeshire.

“So…all in all, would you say it went well?” Ezran hedged.

“Pretty much,” Callum gave him a wry smile as they ducked into a vestibule. “I think they should be okay for the rest of the winter.”

Ezran smiled sheepishly, so Callum poked him. “It’s nothing.” He said heavily, brushing Callum’s hand away. “Lord Simmons made a point of letting me know that the people of Verdeshire do not deserve extra handouts just because they happen to fall under the _Duke’s_ jurisdiction.”

Callum rolled his eyes and sighed. He didn’t especially like the title of ‘duke’, and avoided it as much as possible. “How soon after I left did he say that?”

“Five minutes.” Ezran gave him a small smile. “I really don’t think anyone’s paying him any attention these days. Not after Lady Jila tore a strip out of him last month at that big meeting about the exchange.”

The remainder of the day was spent on admin, which they did separately in their own studies. Once he was completely alone, Callum found his thoughts turning towards his birth father again. It felt strange to grieve for someone he had never known, and he didn’t really understand where the dream had come from. He tried to focus on his paperwork, but his mind would not sit still, so he set everything aside neatly for the following day, and went for another walk. He wound his way across the snowy, windswept battlements, wishing it wasn’t so close to nightfall so he could go down to the river and walk through the woods. Callum was so caught up in his thoughts, trying desperately to _remember_ his father’s face, that he didn’t notice Nia until he had walked right into her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly after flailing backwards. He smiled gratefully as her wing stretched out reflexively to keep him from overbalancing on the icy flagstones.

“Everything all right?” Brock asked lightly, giving him a searching look.

Callum glanced around the group at large; a bunch of healers and medics carrying supplies from the warehouse back up to the infirmary.

“Yes, thank you,” Callum said politely, wanting to avoid a scene and sparking gossip. “How are you all?”

After exchanging pleasantries and checking in with the Xadians, Brock chivvied the rest of them off to their tower, and left Nia behind with her satchel and an apparently important letter that needed to be sent off post haste. She gave Callum a wry smile, and once the rabble had gone out of ear shot, she said, “Forgive the intrusion, but you seemed rather preoccupied.”

“I’m sorry,” Callum apologised again, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “I really should have been watching where I was going.”

“Anything on your mind?” Nia asked lightly, wings fluttering to keep the snow from settling on her feathers.

Callum shrugged helplessly. “Strange dreams.”

“Can I help with that?” she pressed gently. “The herbs we gave you can sometimes have…hmm, how does Brock put it again? _Interesting_ effects.”

“Interesting how, exactly?” Callum asked. He gestured along the battlement, and Nia bowed her head politely before falling into step beside him.

“You’d be amazed what people can squirrel away in their subconscious. Everyone’s different, so it manifests differently for everyone. That tea makes me dream a lot about reading weather systems.” She shrugged offhandedly. “It’s just how my mind processes things.”

“Hmm,” Callum found that genuinely interesting, but he wasn’t sure he was comfortable telling Nia about this. “I don’t want to keep you from your errand,” he went on to try and steer the conversation away from the topic.

Nia chuckled and patted her satchel. “Nah, it’s fine. Just a letter to my brother, nothing massively important.”

“Oh? Which brother?” Callum asked, curious. Nia came from a relatively large, blended family; both of her parents had had several partners, and she subsequently had a lot of siblings.

“The youngest. Well, he’s actually my stepbrother, but the distinction’s never been that important to me.” Nia admitted with a small shrug. She gave Callum a sideways look, which he met levelly. “Rayla spoke to me earlier. Asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Callum blinked in mild surprise. She usually sent Soren or Brock to do that; Rayla must be quite worried if she was enlisting help from unknown quantities like Nia.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. It just seemed to me that she was a bit concerned about you.”

Callum sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t really know, to be honest.” He said truthfully. “I had a weird dream. I…don’t _think_ its connected to the wound.”

Nia didn’t say anything, and Callum deliberated for a long moment. He didn’t know her very well, but he knew and trusted Brock, who held her in high regard. And she had offered her help regarding his ongoing treatment.

“I had a dream about my birth father.” Callum looked away with a shrug. “At least, I think it was. I don’t remember him, and I don’t really know anything about him. But the dream, it felt so…”

“Vivid?” Nia supplied, and he nodded silently. She considered this for a moment while Callum collected himself. “Please tell me if I overstep the line. You say you don’t remember him…?”

Callum made an offhand gesture, and told her simply, “He died when I was about five months old. I was too young to remember. And my mother died when I was five. My stepfather kept a bit of distance because he wanted me to be able to have some kind of relationship with my birth father, but honestly…I don’t feel much of a connection to him.”

That statement hurt, and he wasn’t entirely sure why that was. How could something, or someone, you didn’t know, hurt you like that?

“While you were dreaming, what did you feel?” Nia asked.

Callum’s mouth twisted thoughtfully. “It was him. But I couldn’t remember anything about him after I woke up.” He thought he looked a bit like his father; Amaya had teased him about how his mother had had a type, which was why a courtier had once mistaken Callum for Harrow’s first born on account of his green eyes. He didn’t have anything to measure it by, but he had always thought he looked more like his mother; he and Ez had both inherited her eyes, even if they had inherited different colours.

“That’s the frustrating nature of dreams. They tend to only make sense when we’re asleep.” Nia shrugged, a little helplessly, before she straightened up. “Did he say anything to you?”

Callum sighed heavily and passed a hand over his eyes. “Yes. But I don’t remember that, either.” He had been so desperate to know what his father looked like that he hadn’t thought about the rest of the dream until it was too late.

Nia pondered this for a while. They stopped to lean against the wall, overlooking the arable land that was sleeping under a blanket of snow; the darkening sky beyond was threatening more snow, and potentially some lightning later on. For now, the weather had cleared somewhat, but it was fixing to get worse again come nightfall. While Nia was quiet, Callum fidgeted with his gloves and tried to be patient.

“There is a technique we could try, if you wanted to. It might bring back some details.” She said eventually.

“Is it even linked to the wound?” Callum asked with a sigh. “Is it worth all the hassle if it doesn’t help it to heal?”

“Maybe not.” Nia admitted freely, leaning against the stonework, wings beating lazily to shift the gathering snow. She looked at him sidelong. “But this is clearly bothering you. Just because it’s not directly related to your wound, doesn’t mean it won’t affect you.”

Callum gave her a wry smile before turning his face skywards, and closed his eyes. “Maybe.” He agreed. He straightened up and took a deep breath. “What would we have to do?”

“Find a nice, quiet place, and rebuild the scene in your mind. I’ll ask a few questions and hopefully that will jog your memory. You’d need to sit in the Dreamspace for a bit.”

Callum thought about it for a bit longer, before quietly agreeing and asking what they would need for the exercise. Part of him was curious and eager to learn the memory technique, but the larger part of him was surprisingly desperate to remember the dream. They swung by her room to grab some incense and a special candle, as well as a crystal sound bowl. The pair of them then went hunting around the astronomy tower for an empty room with a hearth and windows facing into the wind, and found more or less what they were looking for.

Nia lit a fire in the grate before tending to the candle; she set it on the floor between them after they had thrown the window wide open, and made themselves comfortable beside the hearth. She dropped the incense a little at a time into the fire, and directly onto the candle; once Callum had settled his mind into the right space for meditating on magic, she started using the sound bowl. It had a beautiful, sonorous ring that reverberated through the entire room, and seemingly down to the very marrow of Callum’s bones.

The Dreamspace was really just a word to describe the place between a person’s consciousness and their arcanum. It was often deeply buried, and only skilled mages accessed it on a regular basis; Callum had accidentally managed to slip into it not long after he had first used Dark magic – something that both impressed and alarmed his mentors. He was much more adept at controlling it now, and Nia trusted him tacitly to settle into the space on his own without guidance.

When they were ready, she began asking questions. “Do you remember where you were?”

“The river. Where I used to go with my stepdad when I needed to talk. We were sat on the mooring.” That bit he remembered clear as day.

Nia kept asking open questions, and his memory trickled into the blank spaces, slowly filling in the picture.

He had been wearing a green tunic; his voice sounded like Callum’s, but he thought that was more likely his own mind filling in the unknown details; he had been asking about his day; he’d had three piercings in each ear; his beard was rough and kind of messy; he was…kind of like Harrow, and not like him at all.

Callum didn’t realise how emotional he was feeling until Nia ended the exercise, and had to gently guide him out of the Dreamspace. He finally opened his eyes and found himself blinded by tears, which he hastily tried to wipe away. Being so used to having to be strong and steady as a Prince and an Archmage, it was incredibly difficult and uncomfortable to be overtly emotional in front of someone he wasn’t overly familiar with. Nia just handed him a handkerchief and waited for him to gather himself.

“How are you feeling?” she asked eventually.

Callum sighed, and tried to smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Drained,” he answered honestly.

Nia gave him a wry and apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t think this helped you at all.”

Callum shook his head and raised a hand to placate her. “It’s fine. Thank you, for your help.” He knew he sounded a bit too formal for the occasion, and hoped she wasn’t offended.

“I think you need an early night,” Nia said, quickly gathering everything up and tucking it into her bag.

The sun was setting, and the cold winter night seeped in earnest through the window. Nia secured it tightly shut and saw to the fire in the hearth while Callum tried to collect his scattered thoughts. She said she would inform Brock about what they had done that afternoon, and gently promised that if he needed _anything_ at all _,_ he shouldn’t hesitate to ask either of them for help. Nia walked him back to his rooms, not leaving until he was safely inside, and her concern for him made a lot of sense when he finally had a chance to look at himself in a mirror. He looked completely drained and exhausted, which made him wonder if he had looked better or worse off earlier in the day before they had tried the meditation exercise.

Callum ate alone that night, and wondered how Rayla would react to his appearance when she arrived.

“Ohh,” she murmured, rapidly dumping her bag and wrapping him up in her arms, heedless of the snow dripping from her cloak. “You don’t look so good.”

He _thought_ he had got everything under control, so when he started crying it took him by surprise. Rayla just held him, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek, waiting for him to be ready to speak.

Eventually, he gave her a watery smile, and told her about the exercise he had done with Nia.

“Did it help?” she asked quietly. By then they had moved to the couch, and she had him tucked up against her side, fingers in his hair.

Callum sighed, closed his eyes and nuzzled deeper into the crook of her neck. “I dunno. I just feel tired.”

After a long pause, Rayla stirred, and he sat up to be able to look her in the eye. After a lot of hesitating and lip biting, she asked tentatively, “Does Amaya know anythin’?”

“Probably,” he shrugged uselessly. It felt like he had been doing that a lot today. “I guess…I never really asked. Not big questions.” He shook his head with a sad smile. “Maybe I’ll ask over the Solstice. Not right now…”

Rayla’s smile became fixed, and she hooked her fingers into his scarf.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh?” she raised a delicate eyebrow and cocked her head to one side.

“This is the part where you tell me to go to bed for my own good, and I beg you to make love with me.”

She gave him what was meant to be a wry smile, but it came off rather shy as she played with his scarf. Callum smiled back and leaned his brow against hers.

“You sure?” she asked in a small voice.

“I love you,” he affirmed, kissing her cheek. “And I take a lot of comfort from your presence.”

Rayla laughed gently and kissed his nose. “Y’sure? Only this feels like I’m takin’ advantage of ye.” She wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye for emphasis.

Callum leaned into her hand. “I find a lot of comfort in your love.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “In all its forms.”

She kissed his lips tenderly, and then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, giving him a firm and commanding look that just made his insides melt. “This isn’t happenin’ if you’re emotional.”

“Agreed.”

“B’cause I’m not takin’ advantage of ye when you’re all weepy and vulnerable.”

Callum bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Naturally.”

Rayla narrowed her eyes at him, and leaned forward menacingly. “Sanctimonious git.”

Callum grinned shyly and pressed his brow against hers. “I feel safe when I’m with you.” He told her simply.

She closed her eyes and sighed gently. “Me too.” She murmured, pressing her lips against his.


	12. Winter Solstice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My timetable has been so up in the air the last few weeks ‘xD I’m hoping the next chapter won’t take so long – I got bogged down with a couple of side projects I’m working on, as well as threshing out a more detailed timeline of events for this story to make sure I got in all the things I wanted to and in the right order. That, and with my area back in lockdown and half the family birthdays in December, I optimistically thought I’d try to make as many presents this year as I could. This is proving to be more time consuming than I thought it would be. Watch this space xD

After much faffing and flapping around, the Solstice holiday finally arrived. There was a brief burst of activity for the city-wide celebrations, then everyone went on leave, and the Castle became almost eerily quiet.

Every culture celebrated and put special significance on the Winter Solstice, and in Katolis it was a time of gathering together and celebrating family. As a result, all the Xadian visitors who were not on duty during the festive season found themselves adopted for the week into their friends’ families. And everyone who was on duty during the holidays were visited and plied with baked goods and wine (where it was appropriate).

Rayla did one last round to check on the visiting elves, and was glad to see everyone settled in and enjoying the festive season. The medical team had made a yule tide tree out of colourfully stained measuring flasks, clamped in place to a retort stand and lit up with strategically placed candles. The soldiers, predictably enough, made their own festive decorations using spare pieces of armour, defunct weapons and beer tankards. Jenny was especially proud of her own yule tide tree, comprised of differently coloured wine bottles stacked on their sides and bound together with twine and rope to make a pretty impressive silhouette of a decorated pine up against the wall of the barracks. She also earned the title from the elves of ‘Piss Artist in Chief’, which prompted her to walk everywhere with a tankard in hand and take exaggerated pantomime sips whenever people were looking at her.

The night before they were set to leave for the Banther Lodge, Rayla couldn’t get out of the barrack’s social do, mostly because the other soldiers wanted some of her attention before she left, so she hung round and got tipsy with her friends. They played cards, sang songs and made up increasingly stupid dances. It was, in all honesty, a fun evening; she chimed in with the vulgar alternatives to the festive songs, having the advantage of being able to speak several major Elven and a couple of Human languages pretty well, although she couldn’t top Amaya’s lyrics. The general consensus was that no one could, and the woman was just a bit smug about that. Nate ‘pilfered’ some food from his Uncle’s bakery and handed it out amongst the troops, and Mattrim got a drunken orchestra together using instruments that they improvised from the pieces in the decorative displays. Because of course they did, and Rayla took great pleasure in reminding them all that humans were crazy. In a nice way, but still crazy.

As everyone was starting to get even more drunk, Rayla smiled sheepishly and declined the offer of alcohol and said she needed to turn in for the early start in the morning, and jumped when she was smothered left, right and centre with hugs from both humans and elves alike. Amaya waved merrily as she sipped her own drink and ruffled Rayla’s hair as she finally managed to get to the main building of the barracks and into her corridor.

Rayla shut the door to her room and let out her breath in a deep sigh. She liked people, especially her fellow soldiers, but she had found over the years she rather liked her solitude just a bit more. After locking the door securely, Rayla checked over her things for the trip, and slid neatly out of the window, making sure it swung shut and locked into place behind her. She snuck across the roof tops, rolling her eyes with an indulgent smile when the broken chorus of human voices singing appallingly in Draconic could be heard floating through the night air.

Callum’s sitting room window was open for her, and she fell gracefully inside and shut it behind her to keep the cold out. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by bags, stuffed with books and drawing implements, and a bunch of things Ezran had begged for them to do together. Rayla crouched down and kissed his cheek as he yawned widely.

“Bed.” She told him simply, and he hummed his vague agreement, stifling another yawn. Rayla all but kicked him into the bedroom, and he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. She curved herself around him and went to sleep too, looking forward to the prospect of the holiday away from the Castle, and the damn paperwork.

XOXO

The first morning at the Banther Lodge dawned bright and cold; the world lay under a thick blanket of snow, and eventually the delicious smells of Aunt Amaya’s breakfast muffins made them all stir their stumps a little before midday.

Before then, they were all pretty much comatose. Rayla would have worried about Callum if he hadn’t mumbled and grunted every time she poked him. She stretched out languidly, and gazed up at the vaulted ceiling above; she smiled when Callum rolled over in his sleep and flopped an arm across her stomach haphazardly. He hummed contentedly in her ear and snuggled in closer, and she rolled her eyes as she stroked his hair fondly. She was quite happy to see the bags under his eyes had been alleviated from the long, uninterrupted night of sleep, and he looked truly peaceful.

When the first smells started wafting up from the kitchen, Rayla was tempted to get up, but Callum was sprawled across her, and as hungry as she was, she wanted him to have a proper rest, so she stayed put.

Eventually, Callum shifted, yawned widely, and stretched like a house cat before he flopped down again with a silly little smile on his lips. After a long, comfortable pause, he said dreamily, “ _I_ am _so_ comfortable right now.”

“Are you indeed?” Rayla asked lazily, tracing a spiral against his cheekbone and then running her fingers through his messy hair, lifting it off his face and smiling back at his goofy expression. He opened his eyes and fluttered his lashes at her for dramatic effect. “And how are you this fine mornin’, Your Grace?”

Callum gave her a lopsided grin and clumsily sat up so he could crawl closer. “Excellent, fair maiden. I had a full night’s sleep, I’ve got no filing to see to,” he kissed her mouth with the kind of tenderness that melted her heart. “And I have a beautiful lady in my bed. What more could I possibly ask for?” he slid a hand down her leg as he spoke, deftly hooking her knee with his hand and hoisting her leg over his hip. Rayla was prepared to let him take her then and there, but her stomach growled loudly. They stared at each other for a moment, and then leaned their brows against each other with breathless chuckles. “Breakfast, apparently.” Callum concluded brightly, kissing her nose lovingly before letting her go.

Not entirely satisfied, Rayla sighed and sat up slowly before wrapping her arms around Callum’s shoulders as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I have a proposition.” She told him as she kissed the back of his neck.

“I’m listening,” he said airily, looking over his shoulder at her with a barely contained smirk.

“Let me have you now. Quickly. And tonight you do whatever you want. No time limit.” She murmured between kisses, her fingers finding their way into his clothes. “All the foreplay y’like.”

Callum turned around and kissed her passionately as he pressed her down into the mattress. “Deal.”

“I’m on top.”

“Naturally,” he obligingly fell sideways, and she rolled with him until she had him pinned to the bed. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“We could’ve started last night, but you were out like a light,” Rayla said mildly, tracing the thin scar on the inside of his arm with her fingers.

“Better late than never, right?” he closed his eyes and arched his back when Rayla deliberately moved her hips against his.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” she warned him, firmly pulling at his hair so his neck was exposed. “There’s no paperwork, no idiots yappin’ at yer heels, and no War Mages bangin’ on the door. Right now, you’re _mine_.” She worried his throat with her teeth, leaving the kind of bruise that was fairly conspicuous with most hemlines. He wouldn’t be at Court until January, so it didn’t matter.

“Yes,” Callum breathed, caressing her hips.

Rayla slid a hand inside his pyjamas and stroked him intimately before moving to relieve him of his clothes. They paused to grab a contraceptive sponge, and Rayla sniggered when she saw the well-stocked supply of the solution in his bags.

“Someone’s ambitious,” she teased as she slid onto his lap again.

“I just wanted to be prepared.” He said with a lazy grin, wrapping an arm around her waist as he leaned his weight back on the other. “The look on your face last time damn near broke my heart.”

Rayla got into position and brought their bodies together torturously slowly. “Ready, Loud Mage?” she chuckled at the whimper he gave, and the way his hips rolled involuntarily. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she breathed into his ear just before she gently bit him.

It was quick, but not rushed. Knowing they had three glorious weeks away from the Castle, and that Callum would spend all day planning for that evening, gave Rayla a great sense of security and comfort. They collapsed together against the covers, warm and content, just enjoying the moment while it lasted.

Rayla heard the door to Ezran’s room open, and she sighed. Callum gently prodded her arm questioningly, and she said quietly, “Someone’ll be knockin’ on the door before long.”

“We’d best get up, then,”

They were almost finished dressing when the knock finally came; it sounded like an avalanche in the corridor pounding on the door. Callum answered, thoroughly unimpressed as Amaya signed nonchalantly that breakfast would be getting cold before long, and then she went to chase Ezran up. Callum closed the door and approached the bed, where Rayla was pulling on her socks, with a rueful smile.

“What now?” she asked, somewhat amused.

Callum sighed heavily and pretended to flop dramatically onto the bed beside him. “It’s a long tradition, going back many moons! The winter break is always _loud_.”

Rayla snorted as she stood up and stretched. “I can think of worse ways to spend the Solstice.”

“You know Ez isn’t going to leave you alone.” Callum warned her as they left the room. “He hasn’t shut up about ice skating, or sledding. Or moonberry picking…” he took three steps down the hallway, and jumped out of his skin when Ezran pounced from the shadows with a whoop.

Having already known he was lurking there for a good few minutes, Rayla just stood back and watched the hilarity unfold. The pair of them bickered about what did and did not count as etiquette at the Banther Lodge, and Amaya came out into the corridor to chivvy them along. She turned to Rayla for an explanation, who indicated Ez had been doing his Shadow impression, and that _she_ was the one who had taught him that.

Amaya rolled her eyes and signed, “So we will blame you.” She gave Rayla a wry smile when she beamed back, and good naturedly shoved her towards the kitchen.

Janai was already there, as was Soren, who Amaya batted away from the pile of muffins on the tray. Barius was making hot drinks, and had all the ingredients laid out for jelly tarts for when Amaya relinquished control of the kitchen. Ezran bounced around, encouraged by Soren, and they talked animatedly about the plans for the day, namely snowball fights and charades in the evening. Janai handed out the steaming mugs, and everyone sat down to eat.

Like a lot of proceedings in Katolis, it was loud and a little chaotic, but cheerful and friendly; a bit like what they got up to in the barracks, just with less swearing. It crossed Rayla’s mind as they ate that things would be very different in the Silvergrove; it would be a lot quieter, the snow less deep, and Ethari and Runaan would be curled up by the fire side if the former wasn’t tinkering away in his workshop. She wondered what Runaan would make of all this noise and activity. Before her thoughts could twist down a darker corner she gave herself a little shake and downed her tea. Of course, Callum noticed, and looked more closely when she failed to meet his eye. Because they were amongst friends and family in private, he didn’t go to any lengths to dampen his affections; he wrapped an arm around her waist, fingers stroking her hip, and pressed his lips to her temple. She leaned into his touch, grateful for his wordless understanding and concern, which went unnoticed by the audience around the table.

All he said was, “Okay?” when they had a relatively quiet moment as everyone was grabbing their coats.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, snuggling her way into his arms. Then she grabbed his backside and pulled him closer with a wicked grin. “Ready to be pulverised?”

Callum sighed heavily, and tried to detach her hands from his clothes. “It’s not a competition.”

“Ha!” Soren barked as he strolled past, making to playfully deck them both round the back of the head, and Callum moving too slowly to avoid it. “That’s what the _weak_ say!”

Rayla made it a point to tackle him into a snowdrift at the first opportunity, and then ran away whooping loudly as he stormed after her with an admittedly impressive battle cry. It ended when Rayla dashed over to a tree and ran up the trunk, putting her hands on Soren’s shoulders to steady herself as she sailed over his head; he slammed into the tree as she landed delicately in the trampled snow behind him. She had meant to make a break for it, but stayed to make sure the idiot hadn’t _actually_ given himself a concussion. Ezran thought this was hilarious once he was sure Soren wasn’t badly hurt, besides the nosebleed and his severely wounded pride, and the pair of them teased him for the rest of the afternoon.

Callum found himself a nice log to sit on, where he proceeded to take out his drawing stuff and start sketching. Rayla wanted to go and make a nuisance of herself, but Janai joined him, so she refrained from interfering. She didn’t begrudge Callum’s family wanting his attention, and Janai was family in all but blood and the legally binding sense. So Rayla focused on Ezran instead, as Amaya commandeered the situation and got the tag teams together.

While they ran around like the idiots they were, pelting each other with snowballs, Callum and Janai sat on their log, above such silliness. He was rarely ever this completely relaxed, and it warmed Rayla’s heart to see it. Soren tried to get him with a truly massive, and honestly quite impressive, snowy projectile. Janai turned wide eyed towards the incoming shot, and Callum just casually raised his hand up without looking, tracing a rune lazily, and murmured the trigger word. Just in time, a wall of ice formed between them and Soren, and the snowball exploded on impact.

Janai gave the young man a wry smile as the ice slid neatly back to the ground, and Calum just kept on doodling away with a very smug kind of smile.

“Most impressive.” The Golden Knight told him.

“Thanks,” Callum beamed up at her. “I’ve been practising.”

Rayla edged over, arms held up to signal surrender and that she had no offensive weapons to hand, and he watched her approach with some measure of amusement. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the crown of his head, enjoying the way he turned in her arms to press his lips against her bicep in response. Rayla reached down and traced lines over his heart, realising when he chuckled that she had misspelt it; she wanted to write the Draconic word for ‘proud of’, but she had spelt out ‘pride’ instead. Callum didn’t pass comment, and just smiled up at her brightly before kissing her nose and nodding towards Amaya, who was gesturing imperiously for Rayla’s attention.

The rest of the day followed similar patterns; everyone larking around, Callum and Rayla getting a few cuddles and kisses in here and there, and Soren making a general nuisance of himself for Ezran’s entertainment. When the sun was setting, casting a glorious pink stain over the deep snow, Rayla carried Ezran up to the front doors across her shoulders, barely managing to hang onto him because he was all limbs and incredibly unwieldly to manoeuvre. Soren made a show of kicking the door in and proclaimed loudly into the lodge, “Barius! The King requests a tart of jelly!” he snapped his fingers and everything, and grinned unrepentantly when the man fixed him with a steely look from across the kitchen.

Rayla carried the giggling King into the lodge, with Janai and Amaya on her heels, and Callum bringing up the rear with Bait tucked under his arm. Rayla marched up to the big sofa in front of the roaring fireplace, and tossed Ezran through the air so that he landed with a dull thud on the cushions, still laughing. She was dusting her hands down and about to go pester Barius for hot chocolate, when she spotted Corvus sitting in one of the armchairs. Ezran rolled over the edge of the sofa and landed cat like on the rug before he got to his feet and darted off with great agility.

“Hey! We missed you today!” Rayla told Corvus, ruffling Ezran’s hair as he ran past.

Corvus gave her a weak smile, his eyes sliding towards Soren. “I was up early. And went for a walk.” He said by way of an explanation before he turned back to his book, trying to blot out the noise.

Rayla jumped out of her skin when Callum shrieked in surprise, and spun round, reflexively reaching for her swords. Ezran, by some unimaginably cold and calculated scheme, had snuck a large snowball into the house, and when his brother’s back was turned and his mind elsewhere, had stuffed it down the back of his neck. Callum flailed around, desperately trying to claw the cold and soggy mass from his clothes, and fell over backwards as he went. Rayla placed her face into her palm and snorted with laughter – the look on his face was absolutely _priceless_. He sat up, wide eyed and startled, head spinning as he tried to pinpoint the source of his misery. Ezran was crouched down, hands clapped over his mouth, straining hard not to roar with laughter, eyes bright with irrepressible mischief.

Amaya finally looked up from taking off her boots, saw the stance Janai was standing in with her arms folded and eyebrow raised. She gestured a question, and Janai just looked at her, then back at Callum, and she followed her gaze.

Callum stared at Ezran for a moment before a truly wicked kind of big brother smile flitted across his face. Ezran beamed at him, those blue eyes sparkling.

“I’d run if I were you.” Rayla said simply into the silence.

Ezran twitched, and Callum held still a second longer before he got clumsily to his feet.

“You little _brat-_!”

Ezran bounced up to his feet again and waited for Callum to get into range before he ducked and darted out of the way like a wraith. Of the two brothers, he had always been the more athletic one, even though Callum had far more battle experience. He lunged, and Ezran dodged the attempted headlock with ease, going even further with sticking his leg out to trip Callum up as he went. Amaya flung an arm out to catch him before he went down, and Ezran cupped his hands behind his ears and stuck his tongue out.

“Go on, Callum!” Rayla cheered, pumping her fist into the air. “Go for the jugular!” she winced a little bit when Amaya fixed her with a stern look and gave the military sign for ‘cease and desist’, but it wasn’t enough to wipe the grin off her face.

Callum barrelled towards his brother with a yell that was part battle cry, part laughter, and Ezran pivoted on the balls of his feet and ran to the other end of the lodge.

“Can’t catch me!”

“You are _so_ going to get it-!”

Ezran started up the staircase, and then as Callum raced after him, he vaulted over the banisters and legged it towards the doors again. Callum skidded to a halt, banging his knees against the steps before he spun round and pelted after Ezran with a great big grin, trading insults as they went.

Corvus sighed imperceptibly, and ignored the grin Rayla threw at him. “It was quiet.” Was all the man said.

Ezran ran towards the kitchen, and Barius’ eyes went wide. “Oh, no you don’t, boys! This area is _off limits_! No horsing around in the kitchen!”

Amaya strolled over lazily, indicating that she had this under control, and grabbed Callum around the waist as he ran past. She slung him unceremoniously over her shoulder, and grabbed Ezran in a one-handed headlock as he tried to streak past, both of them still taunting each other. Amaya pulled Ezran in closer and walked up to the couch where Rayla was breathless with laughter after Soren’s shouted remarked to Barius about needing popcorn right away. Amaya tossed Callum over the back of the sofa, much as Rayla had done to Ezran before, and signed to the elf, “You responsible.” She gestured at Callum, who had landed with a squeak, and went on, “Keep under control.”

Rayla threw her head back and laughed again, slowly capsizing over the edge of the couch until she landed on Callum’s feet upside down.

“I’m glad you’re finding this so amusing.” He put on a haughty air, but he was grinning just as broadly.

“Your fuckin’ _face_ ,” Rayla gasped for air, clutching her sides like they might just burst. She tried to poke his nose, but she caught his cheek instead because she was laughing so hard.

Amaya got Ezran to calm down, and he sat quite amicably with Callum and Rayla in front of the fire, continuing to laugh and joke with them, and maintaining that if their aunt hadn’t saved his butt, he would have been running circles around Callum until daybreak.

Barius fed them all soup for dinner, and after everyone had helped to tidy up, Ezran hung off Callum’s arm, begging until his brother caved in and agreed to start charades. He took a suspiciously long time to go get the cards from their room, and Rayla hoped it was because he was using what precious time he had to set up for their own evening activities.

Amaya proclaimed Barius the referee, and argued heatedly with Ezran about how she shouldn’t be exempt from the game because of her heightened ability to read body language. Corvus slunk out of the conversation at that point, and Rayla gave Callum a weary, tired kind of smile as he shuffled the cards and placed the deck face down on the drinks table.

It was a fun evening, full of laughter and hilarity as they all tried to act out various words and phrases, without resorting to sign language (which turned out to be a lot harder than Rayla thought it would be). She enjoyed the lightning rounds, especially when she was put into a tag team with Callum; they knew each other so well that they practically read each other’s minds, which came in handy when he used his lateral thinking to come up with some truly bizarre gestures and convoluted reasoning behind his mimes.

When the games ended for the evening, they all bade each other goodnight and started to trickle off to bed. Callum indulged in one last cup of tea before he turned to Rayla and took her hand to retire for the night. They waved at Amaya and Janai, the only ones left by the fire and curled up in each other’s arms like a pair of contented cats. At the top of the stairs Soren patted Callum’s shoulder with a grin, and Rayla reached up to ruffled Ezran’s hair before they said goodnight, and kept going while the boys continued to scheme for the morning.

As Callum and Rayla reached the door to their room, he flustered for a moment, and gave her a sheepish smile. “Just…wait here a sec, okay? I just need to finish something.” Rayla gave him the predatory smile that always got his pulse racing. “I’ll only be two secs.” He promised, and with that he slid inside and shut the door behind him.

Rayla leaned casually against the door, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, and waited patiently. When Callum came back maybe three minutes later, he insisted she shut her eyes before letting her in, and she humoured him.

Once she was standing in the middle of the room, her hands over her eyes, he said, “Okay, ready,”

She lowered her hands and opened her eyes. The candles were emitting a soft, purple and blue light; a teal coloured throw was laid out on the bed, with a generous handful of moon rose petals strewn across the coverlet. Rayla laughed softly as Callum stepped in front of her and handed her a blue rose with great flourish and ceremony.

“You complete and _utter_ sap, Callum.” She told him, accepting the offering, heart fluttering pleasantly. He had managed to put this all together with very little time to hand; she was impressed, and deeply touched.

Callum smiled, and cupped her face in his hands. “I seem to remember you promising no time limit.”

Rayla made a show of rolling her eyes, unable to keep the sardonic smile off her lips. “Promise me a nice orgasm and I won’t complain.”

He slipped his arms around her waist, and she wrapped her own around his neck, pulling him in for a long, slow, deep kiss. Callum reached up to stroke her right hand lovingly, and took the rose without breaking the kiss; he tucked it behind her ear, wrapping a lock of hair around the stem to secure it, and leaned back enough to look her in the eye with a tender smile.

“I love you,” he murmured in her own tongue.

Rayla responded physically by returning his caresses, and letting him lead her to the bed. Her emotions rose up in her chest, threatening to choke her, and she managed to murmur his name in his ear before bringing her face into his line of sight. And because he was Callum, he read in her face and posture just how overwhelmed she was feeling. His response was to tone down his ministrations and back up a bit to give her more space. Somehow, that just made her fall in love with him all over again, the fact that he could read and understand her so intimately.

“Have I ever told you,” she said slowly, once she had regained some composure. “How wonderful y’are?” she traced the tip of her forefinger across his cheek bone.

Callum smiled and fluttered his lashes at her. “Once or twice,” he said coyly.

Rayla closed her eyes and pressed her face against his. “B’cause y’are.” She murmured as she slid her fingers into his hair, gently drawing him closer.

January was going to bring a flurry of activity, and planning. And sharing his attention with the rest of the world. Right now, she wanted to focus on this time they had together, without any distractions or interruptions. Nothing and no one else existed as far as she was concerned. It was just her and Callum, expressing their love for each other in the most physically pleasurable way possible.

XOXO

One morning at the end of the first week, Ezran sidled over to Callum as Amaya argued heatedly with Soren and Rayla over something army related, taking up most of everyone else’s attention. Callum gave him a quizzical look, and then set the book he had been reading aside to give Ezran his full attention when he saw his brother’s expression.

“Do you…have a moment?”

“Of course. What is it?”

Ezran pulled a face, and his eyes flickered towards the commotion in the kitchen. Amaya was threatening to grab Rayla in a headlock, and because they were all off duty, the elf responded with her rather colourful signing vocabulary, the polite version of which could be translated as ‘I invite you to _try_ ’.

“Can we…go for a walk?”

“Sure. I’ll get my coat,” Callum got up quickly, and winced a little at the small throb that pulsed in his chest. It was admittedly a _lot_ better than it had been, but Rayla still noticed the small gesture, and watched him with a steely gaze as he walked across the entrance way. He signed to her that he was fine and indicated where he was going, and she continued to watch like a hawk as he pulled on his outdoor clothes. Before they left, he put an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek tiredly. “We’re not going far.”

Rayla remained unconvinced, and turned to Ezran, saying, “Don’t let him do anythin’ stupid.”

Ezran brightened and gave Callum a sly smile. “Oh, I’ll _try_.”

She sighed dramatically and pinched Callum’s cheek. “I s’pose that’s the most I can hope for.”

Callum gave her a flat look. “Bye.” He said in a bored tone. Then she kissed his lips and wrapped him up in her arms, and he couldn’t help but smile. It felt so good to be this openly affectionate all the time. He gave her a loving squeeze and kissed her hair before she let him go, and the warm feeling in his chest lingered as he stepped out into the crisp morning air.

They walked towards the river, Callum letting Ezran lead, and for a while no one spoke. Then, Ezran took a detour towards a log on the bank, and hesitated for a long moment before he sat down. Callum dusted some snow off the log before joining him, and after the comfortable silence started to become awkward, he cleared his throat.

“So…was there, anything in particular you wanted to talk about…?”

Ezran looked at him side long, biting his lip, and then he hunched forward and stared at the running water. “Please, just…promise not to laugh?” he asked in a voice that was far too small for his tall stature.

“Is everything okay?” Callum asked, getting quite concerned now.

Ezran cast around for a few moments, like the words he needed might jump out from behind the trees, before sighing heavily and rubbing his face hard with his palm.

“Ez?” Callum prompted, trying to sound reassuring.

“How do you know you love Rayla?” he asked in a rush.

Callum sat back, blinking in surprise. Where had _that_ come from? “Whut?”

Ezran’s cheeks flushed and he stared down at his boots, and Callum suddenly noticed Bait’s absence. Apparently, this was a conversation he didn’t want _anyone_ else clued into. “How- how do you _know_. That you’re in love?”

Callum opened his mouth, and slowly closed it again, trying to think of what to say. “I guess,” he shrugged helplessly, rubbing the back of his neck, and trying not to think of the way Rayla had woken him up that morning, with gentle caresses and murmured assurances of her deep and abiding affection for him, right before she tied him to the bedpost. “I sort of…just _know_?”

Ezran snarled into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “That’s not an _answer_ , Callum!”

“Okay,” he pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Just – let me find the right words.”

They were silent for a while, Ezran twitching with impatience while Callum tried to shake his thoughts into order.

“I like being around her. She pushes me to do better, in everything. And,” Callum flushed a little, and ran a hand through his hair, smiling like an idiot. “She was the first person to call me a Mage.” He met Ezran’s gaze levelly. “Rayla brings out the best in me. Sees it, too. She’s smart, funny…absolutely gorgeous. The bravest person I know, and I trust her completely.” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “That’s…why I love her.”

“Oh.” Ezran looked down again, deflating.

“Any… _particular_ reason why you’re asking?” Callum asked tentatively, more than a bit concerned at this point. He had not been expecting this at all, and he wondered where it was coming from.

Ezran sighed heavily, and briefly buried his face in his hand before he straightened himself up laboriously. “I just…” he paused, and then shrugged, kicking his long legs out and scuffing the snow around in front of them. “I don’t get what everyone means when they talk about those kinds of relationships. And…” he cringed away from the hand Callum raised to place comfortingly on his shoulder, so he backed off. “Lord Karim keeps bringing up marriage.”

“Ah.” Now Callum could see where this was coming from. “Okay.” He hesitated, wondering if he was best equipped for this as he remembered once upon a time being sat down by their Dad to have a similar conversation. “Look, Ez, I know I’m your brother and advisor, but…I’ll answer any questions you have, about that stuff. There’s no judgement,” he gave him a silly little smile, mimicking their father. “What’s said at the log, stays at the log.”

Ezran snorted softly, gazing out across the snowy landscape on the other side of the river. “You couldn’t even tell me how you know you love someone.”

Callum leaned back comfortably, tracing the choppy surface of the water as it rushed by with his eyes. “Every relationship is different. And it will depend on the people involved. I guess I just _know_ that I love Rayla, because when I say it out loud it feels right. I can be myself with her, I don’t have to put on any airs or graces, and she accepts _all_ of me,” he smiled crookedly. “Nonsense and all.”

Ezran sighed again, and leaned against him when Callum gave him a loving nudge in the side. “You guys are lucky.”

“Yeah,” Callum said softly. “Well, I mean, _I’m_ lucky. Sometimes I think Rayla’s more exasperated than anything else…”

That got a chuckle out of Ezran, and they sat in companionable silence for a while, until Callum broached the subject again.

“Is there…any particular reason you’re asking these questions now? Aside from the High Council,”

Ezran deflated again, and stared at the ground between his boots. “Kinda. Maybe. I dunno…” Callum waited patiently, remembering how deeply awkward it had felt to have ‘the talk’ with his stepfather. Having it with your older brother was probably about as mortifying. “I just…don’t get it when people talk about…relationship stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Callum coaxed gently.

It was a while before Ezran shook his thoughts into order. With a slight frown, he said, “Like, when people talk about who they like. Who they’re attracted to. I don’t get it.”

Callum thought carefully before proceeding. “How do _you_ feel? About relationships, I mean.”

Ezran considered this for a moment. “I like the idea of being in love, being close to someone like that. The sex stuff…” he pulled a face and gestured uselessly with his arms. “Not so much? Like, y’know how Soren just blurts out stuff, or how Ari always talks about the way people’s eyes make her feel? I don’t think like that, _at all_.”

It was Callum’s turn to chuckle. “There are _lots_ of different ways to be in a relationship. And lots of different ways you can feel attraction for someone. For some people, it’s about how they look, other’s the way they behave, or the experiences they share. I mean…take Rayla, for example. She’s not attracted to me physically.”

Ezran snorted with laughter. “Yeah, _right_.” When Callum just looked at him, he added, “You two are in each other’s pants all the time! How can she _not_ be attracted to you?”

“Physically.” Callum pointed out, raising a hand to halt the questions for a moment. “What Rayla finds attractive about me is that we have a strong emotional bond. She didn’t start thinking about me that way until after we’d established a deep emotional connection, because she’s demisexual.”

Ezran frowned, nose wrinkling. “Is that…that thing that’s kind of asexual but not asexual?”

“Pretty much.” Callum shrugged, and then sat up straighter, gesturing emphatically. “There are a lot of different words you can use to describe things, but Ez, what’s important is that a person picks what labels feel right _for them_. You don’t have to identify with a word if it doesn’t feel right for you.”

Ezran looked down again. “I don’t think I like people in that way.”

“And that’s fine, it’s just who you are.”

“But…I _want_ a relationship.” Ezran bit his lip. “Is that weird?”

Callum suppressed a small laugh, remembering having a similar conversation with their Dad. “You know sexual and romantic orientations aren’t the same thing, right?”

“Huh?” Ezran spun round to look at him confusedly. “What’s the difference?”

“That you can have sex without love, and love without sex.” Callum shrugged a little helplessly, not sure how else to explain it. “At the end of the day, as long as everyone in the relationship is comfortable and not being coerced into anything, it’s healthy and fine.” Ezran continued to look confused, and a bit melancholy, so Callum added, “Is there something on your mind?”

He sighed and slumped backwards, turning his face towards the heavy leaden clouds above, which promised more snow. “I’d rather not get married for political reasons. I…want to be in love, like Dad was. And- it’s not like I’m really _against_ the idea of sex. I just…I guess I just don’t _care_?” he looked at Callum sideways, like he expected him to start pointing and laughing at his expense. “And…sometimes I worry, that…I’m not gonna find someone who’ll be okay with that.” He sighed, bringing his hands together and folding them in his lap. “I listen to Soren, and I see the way you and Rayla are together, and I don’t get what the big deal about sex really is.”

Callum wasn’t entirely sure how best to proceed. He didn’t want to traumatise either of them, and he _definitely_ wasn’t sharing any details about his own sex life – that was between him and Rayla and _no one_ else. The truth was that even without the romance, sex was a pleasurable thing, and it alleviated stress, and he didn’t know how to convey that aspect without it getting way too personal.

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Ezran asked, in that naïve and unknowing way of his, eyes full of frank curiosity.

Callum laughed softly. “For some people, I suppose it is.”

“Can I…” Ezran looked like he might just shrivel up and blow away in the wind. “I’m not asking, y’know… _personal_ stuff, but…”

Callum gave him a wry smile. “Just ask. There’s no judgement at the log.”

Ezran sighed with something like relief, and went on, “Why do _you_ like it?”

He thought about it for a while before answering. “I like being close to Rayla. And it’s…nice, to share that kind of intimacy with someone you love. I’m pretty sure I could live without it, if I had to. What’s most important to me in our relationship is that we’re both comfortable and happy.”

That, and he just adored the female form. In Katolis, it was generally considered that curvy and hourglass shapes were more desirable and attractive – and Rayla didn’t fit that description. He had never quite found a way to express this to Rayla, but part of what had drawn him to her physically in the first instance lay in the fact that she was so different to the conventions he had grown up with. Slender and willowy in build, bone white hair and a lilting accent, with eyes a vivid colour he had never seen before; Rayla was stunningly pretty and had left a lasting impression on him. Initially it had been because she was so different to anyone else he knew, and then it was because he associated those traits with her essential Raylaness: kind, brave, reckless, determined, stubborn to a fault…

It wasn’t the accent so much as the turns of phrase she used, the way she laughed deep in her chest when she found something funny. And the sparkle of mischief in those violet eyes when she was up to something, whether it be a cunning plan, a crafty prank, or something extra especially daring.

There was no one else like her in the world, and he loved her for just being Rayla.

Callum had to think carefully a bit longer before he spoke again. “I guess…it’s healthy, to…” he grimaced, unable to think of a delicate way to approach the subject. “To deal with those… _urges_ , let’s say. We’re people, and we have needs, and sex satisfies some of those needs. And it’s nice to share that with someone you trust. As long as everyone involved is freely consenting, it’s no one’s business but theirs.” Callum looked down at his own boots with a slight frown, before he turned back to look Ezran in the eye. Something their father had told him, that he felt was important enough to repeat, had sprung to mind. “Ez, I have something kinda awkward and weird to say. So I’m gonna say it, and then we never have to talk about this conversation again, if you don’t want to.”

Ezran’s guarded expression dropped in favour of a raised eyebrow. “O…kay?”

Callum took a calming breath. “You’re the King.” He said simply. “So, just be aware that, if you _are_ pursuing someone…they might feel, y’know…” he sifted through his memories for the phrase their Dad had used. “Obliged, to give consent, because they feel like they can’t refuse the King. I know you’d never deliberately force someone, but just…” he shrugged helplessly. “It’s something you need to consider. Make sure whoever it is doesn’t feel pressured into anything, because it’s the King asking.”

Ezran looked away as he digested this. After another long pause, he asked in a small voice, “Did Rayla feel that way?”

Callum laughed at the notion, and quickly tried to get himself under control so he didn’t make Ezran feel uncomfortable. “No, _no_. No, Rayla’s a _special_ case,” he grinned at the thought. “She doesn’t take crap from anyone. _Especially_ me. I’ve always been the big dumb human that helped her get the egg out of the Castle safely to her, not the Prince of Katolis.” Her Loud Mage, too. Not that Ezran would ever need to know about that. “I think…part of why I like being with her so much is that my title means next to nothing to her.”

That apparently hit a nerve, because Ezran started curling in on himself again.

“Uhh, Ez…?” Callum asked tentatively.

He sighed, and lifted his gaze up to meet Callum’s, and his heart lurched painfully for his little brother. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get to have that kind of relationship. I know Lord Karim means well and all, but he keeps on at me about making a ‘strong political choice’ with my marriage partner.” He emphasised the notion with air quotes, and mimicked the man’s way of speaking. “I know I’m too young to get married right now anyway, but…it’s constant,” Ezran wrung his hands and held Callum’s gaze.

So this was at the bottom of it, where the anxiety was coming from.

“If I die without an heir, the whole kingdom could be torn apart in civil war.” He sat up straight and looked dead ahead, wide eyed and shaking at the thought. “And if that happens, it’ll destabilise the Pentarchy, and the Alliance with Xadia, and-!”

“Ez,” Callum said gently, taking his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “Ezran, look at me. Just breathe.” He leaned his brow against his brother’s, and they both took several deep, calming breaths. “It’s okay. None of that is on the cards right now. You’re too young to get married. The kingdom is secure and the Alliance is being forged, and we’re all _safe_. It’s okay to think about these things, and it’s okay to be afraid. Just take a big step back and breathe.”

It took a while, but Ezran relaxed, and burrowed into Callum’s side with a soft sigh, and he just held him.

“I’m sorry…” he said, in that small voice that didn’t match his height.

“Don’t be.” Callum pressed his cheek against his hair. “Even Kings need big feelings time.”

Ezran laughed softly. “I just…wish I could be like you, and not worry so much about it.”

Callum winced a little. “My situation is a bit different to yours. I’m not expected to produce heirs.” He shrugged vaguely. “The most I’ve got to do is make sure Verdeshire is looked after.”

“Yeah… Did you talk to Hana about that?”

“Yup. She’s on board and going through the paperwork to get up to speed. She and Opeli are prepared to manage everything if something happens to me.” It was kind of a relief, really – although he felt bad for the Councillor if Opeli ever got her claws into him over his sloppy administrative work…

“I’m sorry, talking about heirs probably isn’t helping.” Callum added contritely into the long silence that stretched out before them.

Ezran surprised him a bit by laughing gently. “Nah. I want kids. I just…” he sighed again, and rubbed his face, mussing up his hair in the process. “I really want a good, healthy, stable relationship. With someone who doesn’t care about sex, and wants a family, too. And…sees _me_ , not just my crown.”

Callum chuckled and gave him a loving squeeze. “I just know there’s someone out there who’s completely perfect for you. And they’ll fall head over heels, because you’re a great guy with a lot to offer as a person.”

Ezran squirmed against Callum’s side, and he turned to check what emotion was driving the gesture. Ez looked pleased and embarrassed in equal measure, and Callum felt comfortable enough to give him a sly smile.

“ _So_ …” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, remembering how Dad had played this game with him once before, knowing full well he was crushing like crazy on Claudia and playing dumb for dramatic effect and the sake of Callum’s ego. “Is there anyone in particular who’s caught your eye?”

Ezran pushed him away and turned aside, shoulders hunched. When Callum’s smile bore into the back of his head, he looked at him over his shoulder like a hunched vulture, and scowled.

“ _No_.” He snapped emphatically, before he turned away again.

Callum beamed at him, making sure to carefully school his expression by the time Ezran reluctantly faced him again. He was _so_ crushing on someone.

Clearly, something in his expression betrayed his thoughts, and Ezran became closed off and wary again. “I’m done talking about this.” He said, sounding more like a King than a little brother.

“Okay.” Callum said gently. He spread his arms with a smile, adding as he patted the bark between them, “And it’s all going to stay with the log.”

This cracked Ezran’s façade wide open, and he smiled brightly before he wrapped his arms around Callum.

“Thanks…”

“Any time, little brother.”

“I love you.”

Callum held him closer still. “I love you too.” As they drew apart, he put a hand on Ezran’s shoulder, and said, “I know I’m not your parent, and I’m your advisor and everything, but…I hope you know, you can come and talk to me. About anything.”

“And it stays at the log.” Ezran added with a wry smile.

“Precisely.” Callum beamed.

Soon they were walking back to the Lodge, side by side and talking about inconsequential things, and Callum felt himself sagging a little with relief. He had wondered if and when he’d be having that conversation with Ezran, not really expecting it for a few more years given his outward and apparent indifference towards the subject. Now he knew what was going on in the back of Ezran’s mind, and he could better support him. Which gave him an idea as they reached the front doors of the Banther Lodge and kicked the snow from their boots.

It was relatively quiet inside; Amaya and Soren were in the middle of a furious chess game at the kitchen table, while Barius folded jelly tarts at the other end, watching with detached fascination at the way Soren threw his pieces around the board haphazardly on every turn. Janai and Corvus were both reading by the fire, and Rayla was perched on the back of the couch, running a whetstone needlessly over her Slash blade.

Everyone looked up from what they were doing to acknowledge their return, and Callum kissed Rayla’s cheek tenderly in greeting. The thought was forming in his mind, and he needed to think on how best to bring it up with Rayla. He went upstairs to retrieve his painting supplies, intent on doing a watercolour of yesterday’s sunset over the snowy hills, and heard Rayla yawn, wide and nonchalant.

“Hmm. This whetstone’s a dud. Better go get m’spare one.” She said carelessly as she followed Callum up the stairs.

He tucked himself into an alcove with a soft snigger, and waited for her to pounce on him. Once she had, and had pulled away with a sardonic smile, he said, “For one connected to the Moon, you’re not all that subtle.”

Rayla grinned at him. “Well that’s okay. You don’t bonk me for m’subtlety anyway.”

Callum took her hand and led the way into their room, carefully closing the door behind him to make sure Bait wasn’t hanging around to listen. “I have a favour to ask.” He said as he turned back to Rayla, lounging at her ease on the end of the bed.

“Everythin’ okay?” she asked lightly, glancing in the general direction of Ezran at the other end of the building.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I could do with your help, though.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to proceed.

Callum smiled and sat down beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. “I think Ez could do with some role models on how a mature, happy and stable relationship looks.”

The other eyebrow rose in surprise. “Ez got a crush?”

Callum chuckled and shook his head. “I’m bound to secrecy,” he laughed again at the conspiratorial edge to Rayla’s resulting smile. “Just, suffice to say that I think he could do with an example of what a loving relationship with a royal idiot looks like. So, maybe we can tone down the public arguing just a bit?”

Rayla looked him up and down, her expression very much satirical. “I’m still gonna tell ye when yer bein’ an eejit.”

“Of course,” Callum bowed flamboyantly. “I just meant that I’d like to set a good example for him.”

Rayla’s smile softened, and became just a bit wry. She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek, and pressed her brow against his temple when he kissed the inside of her wrist. “Don’t let him think it’s all just sunshine and roses. Relationships are hard work.”

“Yeah. I know. I just want him to have a good template.”

The look Rayla gave him melted his heart; it was caring and calculating in equal measure as she ran her fingers through his unruly hair, lifting it back off his face. “Y’can’t be all thin’s to all people, Callum. You’re his brother.”

They had had this conversation before, and Rayla gently reminded him on the odd occasion to try and not be his father figure, too. Mostly because it was an unfair expectation to be on Callum’s shoulders, but also because she knew how it felt to have people pushing her on how to identify her relationships. Much as she loved and respected Ethari and Runaan, and acknowledged that they had done more to raise her over the years, Lain was her Dad, and she resented anyone trying to interfere with the way she related to any of them. Callum and Ezran had already had a few spats over it, the latter lashing out and accusing the former of trying too hard to be something he was not, to replace his father.

“I know.” Callum conceded. “And he knows that.”

Rayla sighed theatrically and leaned against his shoulder. “You two are impossible.”

Callum laughed quietly, and didn’t protest when she tipped him onto his back. “Hypocrite.”

“Wanna try runnin’ that by me again?” Rayla growled playfully, pressing him into the mattress.

He grinned at her and rolled his hips against hers as she deliberately pressed down against him.

“ _Fucking_ hypocrite.”

“Ohh, is that a dare?” she raked her teeth against his throat.

“Merely an observation.” Callum breathed, quivering with anticipation.

Rayla leaned back just enough to create some space between them so they could look each other in the eye. Then she dipped down and pressed her brow to his with a rueful smile.

“I think I have a problem.”

“What?”

“I can’t get enough of you. Maybe I really am an addict.”

Callum threw his head back and laughed freely, and her playful slap to the shoulder to make him shut up just made it worse.

“Well,” he said comfortably as he folded his hands underneath his head, and Rayla cuddled up against his chest, shaking with supressed laughter. “At least I can keep up with your libido. I’m not complaining,”

Rayla’s laugh was long and low, and her expression predatory. “Is that a challenge?”

“What do you think?” he countered, digging his fingers into her hips, rocking their bodies together through their clothes.

“Ahh _fuck_ ,” Rayla whined. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” he breathed against her throat as she arched her back, giving him better access.

“Perfect,”

Her eyes shot open after the word fell from her lips, and she stared at Callum like the proverbial cub at midday. The longer he watched, the deeper the flush in her cheeks became, which made him smile and reach up to touch her dear face. She closed her eyes and ducked into his hand to avoid his gaze, clearly self-conscious about what she had just let slip.

“You’re pretty perfect yourself.” He told her softly, and kissed her ear. “And oh so daring,”

Rayla recovered enough composure to thread their hands together and press his into the covers above his head. “Just to check,” she said casually, affecting the air of someone who wasn’t grinding her body against her lover’s with abandon. “And judgin’ by that erection you’ve got goin’ there,” she sat back and placed more pressure on him for emphasis. “You’re okay with havin’ your brains bonked out right now?”

Callum wasn’t quite capable of coherent speech, and nodded through the whimper her actions elicited from him.

“Excellent,”

She kept him pinned to the bed, but he didn’t mind, and they started working their way up to taking off each other’s clothes. Callum was completely lost in the feel of her, the smell of her body, and the depth of her affections for him. Thinking about it during his conversation with Ezran had brought a few things to the forefront of his mind, and he was enjoying reliving those feelings of falling deeply head over heels for her.

They were both startled out of their reverie when someone banged their fist on the door, and Soren barked, “That’s a long time to go looking for a damn whetstone,” he kicked the door in, looking disgruntled, and saw the scene before him. “Ohh, I get it. Whetstone is a _code_!”

Callum cringed into Rayla’s shoulder, trying desperately to hide.

“The fuck do _you_ want?” she snarled irritably.

“A whetstone. Buuuut,” he said in a singsong voice, leaning casually against the lintel, like he hadn’t just walked in on Callum and Rayla engaging in heavy foreplay. “I’m guessing she’s using it on _your_ sword? Right before you sheath it in-”

Callum wanted to sink through the floor and never be seen again. Rayla leaned over him to the bedside table, where, among other things, she had left the spare maintenance equipment for her weapons. She hefted the stone in her hands casually before she threw it at Soren’s head with more force than was really necessary. Callum would have admonished her if her aim wasn’t so good, because it would have done a lot of damage to Soren’s head if it had actually connected. Instead, she aimed so that it ricocheted off the door frame, losing enough momentum so that by the time it slammed into his shoulder, it didn’t have enough energy to really hurt beyond a bruise.

“Ouch-! What the hell-?!”

“ _Fuck off_ ,” Rayla snarled. “Or it’ll be your head I throw down the stairs!”

Soren scoffed and bent down to retrieve the whetstone. “So damn violent,” he muttered to himself as Rayla got off the bed and marched to the door, dishevelled and angry, and in Callum’s opinion very sexy. She pulled up alongside Soren, and bodily kicked his thigh so that he tumbled into the hallway, before she slammed the door shut and locked it securely. “You’re gonna pay for that, moth breath!” Soren shouted on the other side, pounding on the wood for emphasis.

Rayla refrained from answering, probably because despite the temptation, she knew the lack of an answer would wind him up even more. And sure enough, the silent treatment had him stomping away in a huff after giving the door one last childish kick. She turned back to Callum, looking rather apologetic, and then raised an eyebrow at his expression.

Her shirt was hanging open, the strap of her vest had fallen off her shoulder; her hair was tangled and messy, and her bottom lip was ever so slightly swollen. The pale flesh that was visible through her state of undress was bruised lightly in a couple of places from his kisses. The sparkle of mischief came back to her eyes, and she sauntered over as Callum slowly dragged himself up.

“I know that face,” she murmured, standing between his legs and gently taking his face in her hands so she could kiss the crown of his head.

He gave her a breathless laugh in return.

“I want to keep goin’, too.”

“Then take me,” he murmured, meeting her kisses tenderly.

XOXO

The morning of the Winter Solstice dawned late and cold, and very bright as the sun rose in a clear, watery sky. The light reflected and refracted off the snow and icicles, making a beautiful play of colour against the walls of the Banther Lodge.

That night Callum had been especially passionate in bed, and they had begrudgingly pulled on some pyjamas afterward to protect their modesty come the morning. After that display between the sheets, Rayla had just wanted to hold him close and feel his skin against hers – and Callum was worried about Ez getting up to his usual holiday tricks. Apparently, every year at either Solstice, his little brother liked to jump on his bed to wake him up first thing in the morning, and this was the first winter Callum had been home for several years.

It was sometimes quite hard not to hold a grudge against Ezran for needing his big brother.

Rayla had grunted with dissatisfaction as Callum crawled back into bed, and stuck her hands up his shirt to hold him close. They fell asleep in a comfortable pile of twisted limbs, and didn’t stir until the watery winter sunlight slid through the window, breaking through an icicle into a rainbow that fell across Callum’s cheek. Rayla surfaced first, and just gazed at his dear face for a while until he stirred. He yawned widely, found her staring at him with bedroom eyes, and chuckled deep in his throat.

They kissed once, twice, and she was so tempted to rip his clothes off and have him then and there, audience be damned. Then she heard Ezran’s door go, and the slight but distinct creak as he crept across the hallway towards their door. Callum sighed and flopped down against the covers with a pleading kind of look.

Rayla looked him up and down, ignoring the way his swollen lower lip made her belly quiver with butterflies. She sighed heavily, rolled her eyes, and reached for him; she wrapped him up in an annoyingly chaste embrace, and they settled down to feign sleep in the hopes that Ez would take pity on them.

“First full moon of the lunar new year,” she growled in Callum’s ear before she nipped it, enjoying the shiver that ran through his body. “You’re _mine_.”

“Always,” he murmured, fanning the spark deep inside her into a flame, and she felt like pinching him in retaliation, but the door opened slowly, so they both went limp and pretended to be fast asleep.

Ezran moved incredibly stealthily – if Rayla wasn’t so attuned to these things, she likely wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint his precise location. Under the covers, she slid her hand up to the corner of Callum’s pillow, and waited.

When Ezran pounced with a shriek of laughter, Rayla sat up and smacked him with the pillow round the back of the head. Callum squeaked at first having his body used as a springboard, and then his head landing on the mattress very suddenly when Rayla leaned over and started wrestling the boy into submission.

“C’mon, you two,” he sighed heavily.

“Ez started it!”

“Oh yeah?” he grinned, locking his fingers into position so that Rayla couldn’t untangle their hands. “You gonna finish it, too?”

“Wouldn’t _you_ like t’know?” she growled playfully.

Callum sighed loudly, and crawled to the other side of the bed so he could get up. He appraised them both as Ez tried to get Rayla in a headlock, and didn’t do a good job of it, for all his valiant efforts.

“I’m going to the bathroom. See you at breakfast.”

They were still sparring by the time he came back, mostly for the hell of it. Callum rolled his eyes and sighed with loud theatrics as he reached for his dressing gown. As Rayla and Ezran made to follow him, Soren joined them, and they had a three way wrestling match down the stairs until Amaya broke it up and slung her nephew across her shoulders for the rest of the journey to the dining table. Soren and Rayla did their best to distract her by rapidly slapping their hands against her arms, but it did nothing to slow her down.

Janai watched all this with a raised eyebrow, and Callum smiled tiredly, helping himself to toast. “Didn’t get the memo?” he asked breezily in her tongue.

“I just assumed that Amaya did not know what _loud_ actually entails.” She said wryly.

Once the hilarity damped down, Rayla took her seat beside Callum, holding his hand above the table and kissing his cheek, very close to his ear. Soren pretended to vomit into his tea and told them to get a room; Ezran chanced them both a glance, and looked away with a grin as Bait grumped his way over to the table. Amaya gave Janai a big smile, and laughed when the elf indicated that her ears were bleeding.

It was a day like any other they had spent at the Lodge, except that there were presents to be exchanged and candles to be lit at midday, and it was socially acceptable to stay in their pyjamas. Corvus and Barius broke that tradition, but Ezran was happy enough to overlook the transgression in favour of pestering his brother for attention.

In the Silvergrove, it would certainly have been a lot quieter. Ethari would have made a roast dinner, that they would have picked at throughout the afternoon. Runaan would have curled up in his favourite armchair with a book and a nice mug of tea, and Rayla would have spent the whole day trying to wind him up. Much as she enjoyed the Katolian way of celebrating, she found herself missing her home today a lot more than she thought she would.

And because he was Callum, he noticed her disquiet, and cuddled up beside her with silent understanding. She was more grateful for his wordless support than she could ever express, and for a while they were wrapped up in their own little bubble while Soren and Ezran chased each other around the sitting area.

The gift giving was done with little to no ceremony whatsoever; everyone took it in turns to fish through the pile under the fir tree in the corner and pick up a wrapped parcel to hand to its intended recipient. Rayla was glad she had taken Ariadne’s advice when the topic had come up during her stint in the infirmary, to get cracking with the gift giving well before December. She had still been scrambling up until the last day before leaving the Castle, but she had managed to make a bunch of things in time.

She had recently learned to knit, something Ethari had tried and failed to teach her years ago, and made Amaya a scarf. The tension was a bit off, and she had dropped a few stitches here and there, but it was warm and serviceable, and at Kora’s suggestion in the army colours. Her efforts earned her a bone crunching hug, and Amaya wore it every day for the rest of their stay at the Lodge. Bait got a little knitted hat, and while he looked up at her with a somewhat baleful expression, the orange glow betrayed his deep joy. Rayla had also made a little wooden puzzle box for Ez, and had spent hours by the barrack’s fire side sanding down the edges; it was something like the things Runaan used to make for her, but nowhere near as fiendishly difficult to solve. Callum gave her a high four when the puzzle had Ezran sat beside the hearth for a full fifteen minutes in meditative silence trying to figure it out.

Soren complained about how small his present from Rayla was, until he opened it and saw it was a Moonshadow whetstone of his very own. “So you can stop nickin’ mine,” she told him.

“Aww,” he lunged and tried to hug her, and she dodged out of the way so that he crashed into the drinks table. “You really _do_ care, moth breath!”

Rayla had done much the same for Corvus and Janai, because she didn’t know what else to get the two warriors, and was rather pleased when she saw the former sitting by himself in a corner at the end of the day, trying the stone out on his weapons with a smile. Barius got a book of Xadian recipes that Rayla had bartered with a young Earthblood soldier for, giving up another one of her precious whetstones in the process; the responding hug made her think she might have actually cracked a rib this time, and she did her best to hide the wince as she limped back to the sofa.

Of course, Callum was the hardest person to pick a present for. He was too tricksy for little puzzles and his wardrobe was well stocked – his gloves were perfectly serviceable and nothing was ever going to replace that red scarf of his, so even if her knitting skills were up to it she wasn’t going to try. So instead, Rayla had gone hunting through the shops in Acton one afternoon when Callum was stuck in a meeting, and found a book all about the history of the county. The guard who had helped her look told her it was some special edition, with a particular illustrator, and something something academic that went over both their heads because they were just muscle in the army and not scholars.

After all the worry of whether it was something he would want or get use out of, Callum gushed excitedly, and of course fixated on the illustrations, losing his damn mind when he recognised the name on the inside cover. He kissed her with more passion than she was expecting considering all eyes were on them, and she blushed deeply when he said, “Rayla, you’re the best!”

In turn, Rayla received a bunch of really nice things. Soren gave her a pair of Katolian archery gloves, carefully modified to fit her hands and tooled with a crescent moon motif linked into the usual diamond chevron pattern. Ezran gave her a large box of assorted sweets from every Kingdom in the Pentarchy, with as many berry flavours as he had been able to muster. She got a traditional Katolian dagger from Corvus, and he told her jokingly to use it as a glorified toothpick because her swords were unsurpassable. Janai and Amaya had clubbed together to make their lives easier and given everyone a collection of soaps they picked up on their diplomatic excursions across the world. Rayla smiled as she sniffed the gentle scent of lavender and jasmine, while Soren exclaimed loudly about how he _adored_ citrus flavour; Rayla sniggered as Ezran and Callum exchanged looks.

“I…think you mean-” Ez began.

“Just leave it.” Callum sighed heavily.

Callum’s gift was, of course, perfect. He had drawn on a thick piece of paper, colouring in a mosaic pattern; it would have been a lovely piece of abstract art, but then Callum showed her the subtle creases in the sheet, and she folded them as instructed. The end result was a beautiful origami moonlily, down to the last coloured detail. Now his sudden compulsion to throw a Xadian botany book across the library in a panic when she went looking for him three days before departure made sense.

“It’s beautiful,” she told him, kissing him tenderly. “Thank you,”

The time it must have taken to study the flower, learn how to fold the paper correctly, and then weave all the elements together… It was the effort as much as the thought behind the gesture that made her heart melt.

Solstice dinner was every bit as excellent as the boys had promised it would be. Barius had even gone to the trouble of making Verdant pie, with one amendment to the recipe so that it now included the moonberries Rayla had picked yesterday. Before that, they had the main course, which was full of roasted vegetables, and the all-important potatoes, as well as a turkey. Soren got into a scrap with Corvus over the meat, and Amaya just blithely heaped it onto her plate when neither of them were looking.

Rayla looked over the remains of the meal as Callum helped Barius to clear the plates away for dessert, wondering just how many days they would be eating the stew made from the leftovers. As the pudding made its way to the table, Soren pointed at Callum and rapped his fork smartly against his wine glass so that it made a ringing sound.

“Speech!”

“Yeah, Callum!” Ezran turned to him with a grin. “Do a speech!”

“Whut?” he blinked at them both in surprise.

Amaya jumped on the band wagon and signed emphatically with a slam of her fist on the table; Rayla joined in the heckling as well until he sighed in defeat and heaved himself out of his chair. “Order, order!” he mimicked Soren’s gesture with his own sherry glass. “There will be order at this table!”

“An order of chaos,” Rayla slipped in, pinching his hip playfully.

“Shush you,” he batted her away without looking. With that bright, sincere, sweet smile of his, Callum lifted his glass, and gave her hand a loving squeeze. “So. Well. I think it’s safe to say that five years ago, none of us would have seen this coming,” that got a few chuckles, and Amaya playfully punched Janai’s arm when she gave an elaborate little bow, of the kind that was usually meant as an insult during a duel. “It’s been a long road to get here, and I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling very optimistic about the coming year and all the political engagements coming our way-”

Soren sniggered at his turn of phrase, and Rayla lifted her wine glass with an ironic smile. “Optimism. Famous last words…”

She grinned when he flicked her ear and said, “Shush.” He didn’t look at her, but she could see he was smiling. Callum continued his speech, saying, “It’s been a long, interesting and sometimes difficult five years. And sitting here with you all, with the people I trust and love most in the world, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be at the Solstice.” He raised his glass to them. “To your collective and _outstanding_ good health!”

“Here, here!” Janai said, lifting her own drink, the others following suit and going through the Katolian custom of _clinking_ their glasses together two at a time, until everyone had toasted everyone else.

Barius chuckled and unveiled his Verdant pie with a flourish before cutting it carefully into perfectly even slices and loaded up the plates. Ezran was staring down the piece of pie before him like he thought it was going to jump off the plate and flee. He looked up at Barius, who smiled back with a raised eyebrow.

“Is something wrong?” the baker asked.

“No,” Ezran cast his gaze around the rest of the table, watching as Janai and Callum handed out the rest of the plates. “Just trying to be polite.”

“Trying being the _operative_ word.” Callum said under his breath. He grinned unrepentantly when Rayla flicked out her arm to clip him in the stomach.

“You’re as bad as each other, y’know that?” she admonished him teasingly.

Just as Ezran was reaching for the first bite, Soren exclaimed, “Oh, there’s cream!? Pass it over and cream me up!”

Rayla shuddered and dropped the fork in her hands as she cringed at the mental image that conjured up. She could have lived her whole long life without having ever had _that_ thought put in her mind. Callum looked at her questioningly, and then with concern as she continued to cringe and not look anywhere near Soren. The guy gave her that blank look before he shrugged and continued to drown his dessert in cream.

“What?” Callum pressed.

Rayla scowled up at the ceiling. “Translate that into Moonshadow.”

Callum’s lips moved silently as he did so, and his brow creased in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

She put a hand over her eyes and leaned her elbow against the tabletop. “Like…cream pie?” she hissed under her breath.

“As in…?” he pressed again, and then his eyes went wide with understanding. “Oh. _Oh_.”

“You got any spells that’ll wash the inside of m’head out?” she asked casually, cutting the pie on her plate with her fork.

“What’s this about cream pies?” Ezran asked innocently as he scooped up a hefty forkful of his own.

Callum’s eyes went even wider somehow, and he flailed for an answer that wouldn’t traumatise them both.

“See, it’s this thing, where a guy-” Soren began, and stopped abruptly with a yelp when Amaya punched his arm just as Janai cleared her throat very loudly.

Ezran turned back to his brother, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Erm…” Callum wouldn’t look in his direction, let alone in the eyes, and Ez wilted.

“Is this another conversation for the log?”

Rayla looked from one to the other, watching Callum’s face go red, and raised her own eyebrow. “The fuck a’ye both on about?” There were plenty of Katolian euphemisms that likened a penis to wood, but she’d never heard _that_ one before.

“We’ll…talk about it later. Eat your dessert.” Callum gestured at the table, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

Ezran looked like he was going to press the issue, but he took a bite as he was staring Callum down, and then he got the most adorable wide-eyed look of sheer joy that Rayla beamed at him.

“Not _quite_ like moonberry surprise. But pretty close, right?” she appealed to Callum as he tucked in as well.

“Especially with the moonberries,” he saluted Barius, glad to have the conversation turned. “You’ve out done yourself.”

The old man chuckled and raised his glass. “It was a good recipe. And I had help,” he nodded to Rayla, who beamed back.

“So,” she said slyly as Ezran attacked the pie with relish, eyeing what remained on the platter in the middle of the table as he went. “Pick one to live without. Verdant pie or jelly tarts.” She howled with laughter at the look of utter heartbreak on Ezran’s face as he considered the options.

Soren sat up straight in his seat and fixed her with a deadly stare. “That’s just pure evil, Rayla.” Then, raising his voice and pointing dramatically at the door, declared, “Be gone, Vile elf! And never darken our table again!”

“Guys, please,” Callum begged, raising his hands placatingly. “Can we go one meal without a death threat?”

Corvus had to intervene before the argument ended with a fist fight, and Ezran turned to Rayla, really hamming up the anguish for dramatic effect. “I have to pick?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yes.” She grinned wickedly.

Ezran made his bottom lip quiver theatrically. “That’s _mean_.”

“Well it’s a good job we have Barius, isn’t it?” Callum sighed, sharing an amused look with Janai across the table.

After the meal was over, and they had cleared the plates, Ezran begged Rayla and Soren to go outside for a snowball fight. They acquiesced, but they were all a lot slower than normal after the hefty feast, and tumbled back indoors in a heap after only an hour. Rayla kicked off her boots and surveyed the group assembled loosely around the hearth as she approached the armchair Callum was tucked into. He looked up from his new book only when she put a hand on his shoulder, and he smiled at her, holding his arm out and inviting her to join him. She curled up on his lap with her legs over the arm of the chair, their arms entwined as he embraced her and propped the book up against her thigh.

Ezran’s laughter from the fire side after a nice long doze prompted Rayla to open her eyes and check what was going on. Soren was trying to solve the puzzle box (which had taken Ez all of about half an hour to figure out), and the young King was giggling away at his expense when he tried to force the sliding pieces into cooperating. Corvus was off to the side, tending to his weapons with his new whetstone; Barius was sat at one end of the sofa, engrossed in his new recipe book and making notes on a spare piece of paper as he went. Beside him, Amaya and Janai were curled up in each other’s arms, paying no one else any mind, and Rayla respectfully turned her gaze from the way Janai was running her fingers through Amaya’s hair.

Callum was likewise deeply entranced with what he was reading, but he responded promptly and warmly when Rayla snuggled closer and kissed his hair. He squeezed her back, and when she kept pawing at him for his attention, he rolled his eyes with a theatrical sigh, tucking a finger between the pages he was on, and kissed her mouth tenderly. As they slowly drew back, he gave her a tired, ironic smile and stroked her face delicately.

She may have been far from home, and the possibility of her ever having another Solstice in the Silvergrove far from certain, but right now, she had to agree with Callum’s sentiment.

There was nowhere else, and no one else, she would rather be with right now.

XOXO

As dusk fell on the Winter Solstice, the world and all its peoples celebrated the slow return of the sun, and the promise of warmer days come the spring, in their many different ways.

The soldiers in the barracks of Orphan’s Rock made a bonfire and passed out as many different drinks as they could muster between them, singing a variety of increasingly raucous songs from every culture represented amongst their ranks. The medical team on duty likewise sang a variety of songs to each other and their patients, scrounging up the closest approximations to seasonal dishes to share out amongst themselves. There were many households, both within the Castle and across the Capital, that shared in their traditions and festivities, inviting their guests to join in and to share their own customs. Brock and Nia organised carols in the courtyard, and Marcos got a bunch of people together to take part in a Lux Aurean tradition, where they lit candles at midnight to symbolically drive away the longest night of the year.

In the Silvergrove, it was much quieter; Runaan and Ethari celebrated alone, together for the first time in years. It was even quieter for Rayla’s absence, which weighed on Ethari’s heart. They ate a traditional roast meal, and Runaan trapped his husband at the entrance to the kitchen with mistletoe, demanding a kiss before he let him anywhere near the washing up – which Ethari was all to happy to oblige him with. Once the kitchen and the dining table were spotless, they poured a glass of wine each and retired to the living room hearth where they curled up together and spent a quiet evening, just enjoying each other’s company and still basking in the novelty of the feeling, like they had when they were first married.

At the Storm Spire, it was windy and the Dragon Prince bounced around exuberantly, lightning crackling from his mouth and his tail spinning in broad, hazardous circles that threatened to trip up any unwary passers-by. Tiadrin was on duty that afternoon and into the evening, and though she didn’t waver once in her vigilance, she did accept the slice of cake Lain had made and brought to her. The frosting was uneven, but it tasted good, and she smiled at him when he sat down beside her while she ate. When her shift ended late that night, they sat up together, watching the cold moon hanging in the winter sky, framed by transparent clouds. Tiadrin played with the locket around her neck, and worried the top left corner of Rayla’s letter with her thumb as she gazed up at the waxing moon. Lain saw this, and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips in silent support. She squeezed back and sighed, looking at Rayla’s scrappy handwriting, and wondering what the new year would bring.


	13. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again this chapter took so much longer to write than I would have liked ‘xD I’ve had a lot of AU brain waves over the holidays that I am tinkering with at the moment, so hopefully watch this space.

With New Years Eve just over the next full moon, everyone made the most of their remaining time at the Banther Lodge. It was wonderful to have the time and space to just be normal, like everyone else; titles were thrown around only facetiously, Rayla was prepared to tackle anyone who she felt asked for it because there were no social or political consequences, and Ezran didn’t have to be King for anyone.

At the beginning of the last week, the youngsters all sat down and made jelly tarts together. Or rather, Barius made the dough and hovered over everyone’s shoulders tsking at their lacking technique, and Ezran kept sneaking pieces of dough and spoonfuls of jelly when he thought no one was looking. Rayla noticed, and Callum always knew when Ezran was up to his tricks because she smiled very sardonically to herself over the lopsided triangles she was folding into the pastry.

Once the jelly tarts had been baked and sufficiently cooled, Callum took a very deliberate bite, chewing slowly, and gave Rayla a meaningful look. She liked kissing him after he had eaten fruit, because the taste lingered on his tongue, and he tried to entice her to kiss him now with the fruit jelly he was eating. She smiled, rolled her eyes, made a show of the fact she was about to walk away and then grabbed his hand and pulled him in close.

“Mmm. I quite like persimmon,” Rayla mused, brushing the hair out of his eyes and batting her own at him for effect.

“In general? Or just on me?” Callum enquired softly, his tone and intentions anything but innocent.

She indulged him one more time before she stepped away gracefully, looking incredibly coy and fey as she went without answering his question. As Ezran had run off upstairs with Soren, and no one else was in the main foyer, Callum scooped up a jelly tart from the plate and went to the hearth to tend to the fire. He winced and rubbed his chest when it twinged painfully at his reflexive use of Sun magic to coax the fire back to life. He really should know better by now…

Callum held the jelly tart between his teeth, so his hands were free to move a fresh log into the grate. As he straightened up, brushing the dust from his clothes, Rayla reappeared with her coat in hand. She flung it over the back of the couch and reached for his hand to reel him in, eyes half closed, lips parted appealingly. She was so gorgeous and the gesture so warm and familiar, Callum reacted without thinking, closing his own eyes and preparing for a nice slow snog – Rayla bit down on the jelly tart before their lips could meet, and she pulled back like quicksilver before he could blink.

“Hey!” he complained, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as Rayla chewed and swallowed before giving him a predatory smile.

“What you gonna do about it?” she taunted him.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?” he sneered at her haughtily, shifting himself into a ready stance.

Rayla’s grin was fierce, wild and beautiful as she sank into a defensive posture and flexed her hands. “Bring it, Mage.”

Callum carefully considered his options before he launched himself across the seating area with a battle cry. She sidestepped easily, took his wrist to redirect the blow with minimal effort, and when he spun round wildly to regain his footing, she neatly put him on the floor in one flowing movement. He protested, and she sat on his back, keeping his hands pinned beneath her, and she leaned down close to his face so he could watch the exaggerated bite she took of another jelly tart.

“Oh, I would _dearly_ love t’know.” She teased him. “Tell me more, Archmage. What exactly are ye gonna do about it?” she took another bite, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

Callum laughed breathlessly. “Sulk.” He finally conceded.

“Callum! We found the triominoes set, let’s have a- oh _c’mon_!” Ezran jumped when he saw them by the hearth. “Seriously?!”

Rayla sat up straight, exaggerating her innocence further. She pointed at Callum and said, “He stole m’jelly tart.”

Callum tilted his head enough to be able to see Ezran, who blinked, looked from one to the other, and said, “Ahh, right. Carry on then,”

“It’s like you people have it in for me or something,” Callum complained loudly.

Once Ezran was out of ear shot Rayla leaned down and breathed in his ear, “I’ve got it in for ye. Tied to the bed posts screamin’ for mercy level in for it.”

“If the aim is to scare me, it isn’t working.” Callum said primly, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks.

“Oh?” Rayla leaned closer still and nipped his ear.

“Now arousal? Yeah, it’s totally working.”

Rayla chuckled and pressed her face against his neck. “Five minutes. Bring jelly tarts,” With that she jumped up and sprang away in one fluid movement.

Keen as ever to not disappoint, and wanting to monopolise on what precious time they had left at the Banther Lodge, Callum scrambled to his feet and dashed over to the dining table. He started when Ezran cleared his throat loudly, and turned to give his brother an indifferent look as he continued to pile jelly tarts onto a plate.

“I hope you’re planning on leaving some for the rest of us.” Ezran said, putting on his Kingly voice.

Callum felt a little prickle of nerves – he really did look and sound like Harrow when he did that. “I am merely collecting Rayla’s share.”

Ez raised an eyebrow as he folded his arms, and suddenly his resemblance to Amaya was uncanny. “What does Rayla want with all those jelly tarts? And why isn’t she getting them herself?”

Callum broke eye contact with him and focused on the plate in his hands as he walked past. “Something that would traumatise us both and that I wouldn’t say out loud even at the log.”

They stood there for a few moments in awkward silence, both going red in the face.

“Ah.” Ezran piped up, voice cracking as he went from confident king to gangly teenager in a heartbeat. “Right.” He took a step away, and glanced around the room for the closest escape route. “Bye,” he launched himself at the front door and pelted headfirst into the snow.

Callum sighed with relief as he hurried upstairs with the pastries, and squeaked when Rayla leaned out of the door to grab his wrist and yank him inside.

“Took y’long enough.” She grumbled, sliding the deadbolt home to ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed. “What were y’ _doin_ ’?”

“Getting interrogated by the King.” He heaved a dramatic sigh and popped a tart between his teeth, trying to look appealing and kissable.

Rayla smiled slyly and came close, caressing one cheek with her hand and kissing the other tenderly, ignoring the bait he was offering. Then she stepped forward and around him, tapping his nose and moving so quickly that he didn’t quite keep up, and then when he spun round in a dazed circle, he found her perched on the foot of the bed with most of the jelly tarts in one hand, his belt in the other, and a smirk on her face. He blinked, looked at the nearly empty plate, and sighed again, this time in defeat.

“I really should have seen that one coming.” He said simply, depositing it on the bedside table and approaching when Rayla crooked a finger at him. Callum obligingly knelt against the mattress between her legs and kissed her gently, smiling at the taste of strawberry jam on her tongue.

“Get y’kit off.” She said as she drew back slowly, looking him up and down deliberately. “Now.”

Callum stood up straight and pulled his tunic over his head, and then paused with it halfway down his arms. Rayla was leaning back, weight on one hand while the other held a half-eaten jelly tart; she chewed slowly and meditatively as she watched him with great intent. Never one to let an opportunity to perform for her slip by, Callum continued the exercise with great slowness and deliberation, taking his time and being very sensual about it as he went. He almost cracked a broad grin at the way she narrowed her eyes at him, and couldn’t help but smirk as she finished the tart and got to her feet. By then, he was down to just his socks, and made a great fuss of slowly slipping them off his feet before coming back up to stand straight before her and her flat expression.

“Fuck you, Callum.” She said simply.

He chuckled and reached up to cup her face with his hands. “That’s kind of the point.”

“Shu’up,” Rayla told him as she wound her arms around his neck. After a slow, passionate kiss, she drew back and pressed her brow against his. “I’ve only got so long to keep you to m’self.”

Callum unhooked one of her hands from his neck and brought it to his lips. “Allow me to indulge you,”

“Get your arse in bed,”

The closer the New Year came, the more Callum dreaded going back to the Castle and his duties. He liked that he was useful and helpful to both the Kingdom and to the wider world at large, and he thoroughly enjoyed all the opportunities his position gave him to learn new things and explore other cultures and master spells. He could just really do without the constant stream of paperwork and clamouring for his opinions.

They made the most of each other while they still could; when they got back it would be a mad sprint to get everything ready for the Summit.

When Rayla collapsed beside him, breathless and sated, Callum smiled and brushed the hair out of her eyes tenderly. She smiled back lazily and stretched like a Moonstrider before flopping back against the pillows. The shadows from the gathering dusk outside and the fire in the hearth – as well as her expression – prompted Callum to reach for his charcoal and the special sketch book.

It was bound in blue dyed leather, and had been bartered for at a Xadian market on Callum’s first trip as an official ambassador. He had been prompted to keep the explicit art he drew separate from everything else after Ezran had been idly leafing through his main sketchbook, and Callum had had a heart attack when he remembered the last thing he had drawn in it: a rather risqué sketch of Rayla in the aftermath of one of their _liaisons_ in the early stages of their physical relationship. After he had snatched the book back and run away with his ears burning, he had ripped the page in question out and tacked it into the first free book he could find.

Rayla watched him now with a lazy smile as he found the right spot on the mattress that didn’t block the light, opened up to a fresh page, and got to work. He smiled as he thought back to the first time he had done this – he had been wracked with nerves and almost chickened out entirely, but Rayla had pressed him gently and he confessed that he wanted to draw her intimately like this. He thought she would be offended, weirded out, or just exasperated with him, but as it turned out Rayla found the notion rather sweet and appealing. The resulting agreement between them was that Callum could draw her naked and in compromising positions whenever the artistic fever bit him, and if for whatever reason she didn’t want him to that day, it stopped then and there.

Right now, Callum watched for any sign that she wasn’t in the mood for this, and made the first definitive stroke with the charcoal when she arched her back and started preening for him. He sketched away, thoroughly absorbed with her and the process of drawing, enjoying the emotional intimacy that came with the activity. Just as he was putting the finishing touches on the shading, Rayla moved; she propped herself up against the headboard on a pillow, and ran her hands down her torso towards her legs, eyes closed and lips parted. Callum took the bait and flicked to a new page, beginning another sketch. He kept his eyes on the book, meeting her gaze every so often as she touched herself intimately, watching him closely as he worked.

A soft gasp prompted Callum to look up; Rayla pushed her hips forward, head thrown back, lip caught between her teeth. She shuddered, supressing a whimper as she continued her ministrations, and just as he was turning back to the sketch, she breathed his name with a hint of desperation.

Callum slid the sketch book aside, tossed the charcoal to the floor where it wouldn’t get all over the bedding, and hurriedly joined Rayla against the pillows. Before he could get into position her fingers where in his hair, legs around his waist, his senses completely filled with her.

With a soft chuckle as he kissed down her neck towards her shoulder, he murmured, “You’re lucky I’m so in love with you. Getting between me and my art…” he tutted at the notion.

“I need you,” Rayla said, barely more than a whisper. “I need you…” she held him more tightly.

“I’m yours,” he affirmed, lifting his head to look her in the eye as he stroked her dear face. “Always.” He promised simply, kissing her mouth to return her fervour.

While he liked verbalising his affections, Rayla by and large preferred action over words, and Callum was happy to oblige her sensibilities. As they made love, he spoke a tactile language with his hands, demonstrating with his touch how he was feeling in the moment, and Rayla responded in kind.

For a long time after, they lay in each other’s arms, utterly content and unwilling to move again. Callum stroked her hair, kissed her dear face, and indulged in murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. Rayla smiled sardonically, her cheeks a particularly pretty shade of pink, and rolled her eyes dramatically at his declarations. He frowned a little when her expression became pensive, and she briefly avoided his gaze.

“I wish…” she shrugged helplessly after a long moment to think about her choice of words. “I wish, this moment – this _feelin_ ’ – could last forever.”

Callum held her closer still, and kissed her nose. With a wry smile, he affected the air he might hold at Court, and said, “I refer the Honourable Lady to the answer I gave some moments ago.” He kissed her mouth slowly. “I’m yours. Always.”

Rayla smiled and rolled her eyes, poking his shoulder in retaliation before cuddling herself up against his side. Callum closed his eyes and buried his nose in her hair, and just savoured the moment.

XOXO

One of the things Callum had hoped to do over the Solstice break was talk to his aunt about his birth father. What with one thing and another, like Ezran clamouring for his attention, Soren wanting to make a ‘real warrior’ out of him, and Rayla’s libido, he just kept putting it off. By the time they were packing up to head back to the Castle, he still hadn’t broached the subject with Amaya, and the impending busy schedule for all of them made him feel quite anxious.

The day before they were due to leave the Banther Lodge, Rayla crouched down beside Callum where he was sat on the floor, going through the saddle bags to make sure nothing had been missed. She stared at him pointedly, and he continued primly checking his luggage before he set the bag aside and turned to her with a mild and inoffensive expression.

“Yes?”

Rayla’s expression was flat and unyielding.

“You _still_ haven’t talked to her, have ye?”

Callum sighed, and when he tried to get up Rayla poked his arm in such a way that he toppled sideways onto the floor in a heap.

“Y’know, sometimes y’just _have_ t’rip off the scab.”

Callum righted himself slowly, and tried to fix his hair. “I was always told picking the scab would lead to scarring.”

Rayla’s smile was somewhat amused. “Not with Io viper bites. Anyway,” she waved the notion away. “ _You’re_ procrastinatin’.”

Callum sighed and got to his feet. He walked to the bed, and double checked he had packed the last of his clothes. “I wanted to make the most of my time here, with all of you.”

“And Amaya will have about as much free time as _you_ for the next three months.” Rayla pointed out, slowly following him. She put a hand on his arm, and then slipped it around his shoulders as he turned into her embrace. “Sometimes you just need to take a runnin’ leap.”

After a long and comfortable pause, Callum said softly, “Is it weird, that I kind of _don’t_ want to know?”

Rayla carefully held him at arm’s length, and stroked his cheek, searching his face. “Why?”

Callum smiled ruefully. “What if he was actually kind of a jerk? Or secretly a Dark mage?”

She snorted softly. “From what I know about your mum, I _highly_ doubt it.”

Callum shrugged, and looked downward. “I don’t even know what I’m mourning. I don’t know him.”

“Or…” Rayla slid a hand under his chin, and gently lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Maybe you’re mournin’ the missed opportunity. You didn’t get t’know him, and your mother didn’t have the chance to tell you about him. And it left both you and Harrow between a rock and a hard place.”

Callum smiled tiredly, kissed her knuckles, and hugged her tight. “Did I ever tell you how annoying your emotional maturity is?” he asked innocently.

Rayla grabbed his backside and squeezed hard, making him yelp. She chuckled in his ear, and he replied with a slightly breathless laugh. “Yeah. I’m the mature one.” She said sardonically. Then, after another long and comforting hug, she added, “Callum, this is clearly important to you. Amaya won’t be angry and she won’t glaze it with honey. You have a right to know.”

“I just don’t know if I’ll like hearing it.”

“Well that’s good,” Rayla gave him that cheesy smile that left him feeling more exasperated than amused as she spread her hands. “B’cause with Amaya y’won’t be _hearin’_ anythin’!”

Callum gave her a long, flat look.

“Yeeaah,” Rayla took a step back, shrinking in on herself. “That sounded better in m’head.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I’ll just, go…” she slunk away towards the door too quickly for Callum to stop her.

He stayed in their room a while longer to collect himself, and then he went downstairs after taking a deep, calming breath. Rayla was curled up on an armchair, and uncharacteristically quiet while Soren and Ezran chatted away animatedly by the hearth. Callum gave her shoulder a squeeze, kissing the crown of her head, and she pressed his hand with a warm smile. Then he turned to Amaya, who was bothering Barius in the kitchen. He waved a hand in the corner of her vision to get her attention, and sighed as she grabbed him in a friendly headlock.

She dropped the teasing air when she saw his serious expression and request for a word, and followed him outside once they had found their cloaks. Callum chose to walk to the pier, like the place at the Castle where Harrow had often taken him for big feelings time, and sat down wordlessly. Amaya followed suit, and looked up at him expectantly while he worked up the nerve to ask his difficult question.

After a lot of glances to and away from his aunt, followed by nervous fidgeting that made signing more difficult, he closed his eyes with a sigh and pointed at himself before indicating he had a question. When he looked up again, Amaya was watching him closely and gesturing for him to speak it instead of sign, clearly concerned by this point.

Callum slumped and sighed again, and ran a hand through his hair before it came to rest on his brow.

“My father.” He blurted out aloud. “My- my _birth_ father. What was he like?”

Amaya blinked in surprise. She had once had a similar conversation with Callum, when he was much younger. He wondered what was going through her mind as she considered her next signs carefully.

“Honest. Open. Compassionate.” She gave him a rather wry smile as she added, “Compelling.”

Callum looked away, supressing a chuckle. His stepfather had used that same word to describe _him._

Amaya touched his arm and signed, “Why ask now?”

Callum took a steadying breath before lifting his hands. “Dreams about him. I feel confused. I mourn, I don’t know him.” He signed ‘confused’ again, putting greater emphasis on it to show his inner frustration.

Amaya was still for a long time, contemplating this while Callum just enjoyed the peace and quiet. The water flowed by sluggishly, some birds chittered to each other in the trees on the other side of the bridge, and the sun attempted to peak through the thickening cloud cover.

Eventually, Amaya met his gaze, and he was a little surprised to see her eyes were glazed over with emotion. She smiled sadly as she signed, explaining: “He loved you. You miss him.” She made a grand gesture of shrugging with her smile deepening as she did so, ending with a gesture that translated as: ‘of course’.

Callum returned her smile. Finding it easier to speak than sign, he said aloud, “It just feels odd, to miss someone I don’t really know.”

Amaya hesitated before she signed again, and by the end of the sentence Callum could understand why. “He was sad. Knew he was dying. You grow up without him.” She hesitated again before adding, “He asked me, look after you both.”

“What was he like?” Callum asked again. He felt reassured, and increasingly curious.

Amaya rolled her eyes dramatically, the way she used to when Harrow was cracking a joke. “Artistic. Good cook. Awful jokes.” Callum chuckled, and then laughed when she indicated that he got it from more than one source. “Kind. Patient. Like you.” She finished, her expression full of a rare tenderness that was usually unbecoming of army generals.

Callum felt his cheeks flush with some bizarre and unfamiliar combination of emotions. He wasn’t sure if he was proud, or happy, or even dismayed; in a certain context, she could have been describing Harrow.

“Appearance?” he signed, hoping to turn the subject.

Amaya put a hand on her cheek and contemplated him before reaching out to touch his jaw. She turned his head from side to side before informing him that he looked more like his mother. His father, apparently, had the same green eyes and messy brown hair as him, and was taller than Callum by a good few inches. Amaya drew her fingers across his face, trying to trace lines on the plains of his cheekbones, showing him the differences in their appearances. When she took her hands away, Callum absently touched his cheek, his mind’s eye attempting to rearrange his own features to match the image she had tried to build for him.

“Mother had a type.” Amaya told him with a wry smile that made Callum flush with embarrassment. “Green.” She fluttered her own eyes for effect, and snickered at his expense as he turned aside with a happy but embarrassed smile.

Callum started with a jolt when Soren yelled across the grounds from the front door that lunch was ready, and slammed it shut behind him. Amaya raised an eyebrow as Callum tried to calm his frantic pulse, and he relayed the message. They both got up and dusted themselves down; before Callum could start towards the Lodge, Amaya pressed his hand. He turned to her, and with the other hand, she pointed to him and signed: “Harrow’s boy. Ethan’s boy.”

Callum hugged his aunt tight, and spelled out his thanks against her back, which made her squeeze him tighter still. They walked back to the Lodge together without further communication, though Amaya found several excuses to pat his arm and shoulders, and to ruffle his hair, as they helped to set the table for lunch, and while they ate. Callum didn’t speak much, though he answered when spoken to, and smiled warmly enough that no one was concerned or suspicious. Except Rayla, who watched with mounting impatience and bundled him to one side at the first opportunity to ask if he was all right.

“Well?” she asked, only just failing to hide her concern.

Callum kissed her cheek before saying, “You were right. It did help.”

“What did she say?”

“About the same as the first time I asked when I was a kid.” His smile must have been very complicated, because it made Rayla frown as she tried to puzzle it out. “She said…that I am my father’s son, and my stepfather’s son. I guess, well…” he rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly. “I think I was feeling guilty about thinking of Harrow as my Dad. And, now I feel okay about it.”

It wasn’t really anything Amaya had said, just that he had felt in a safe space with her to look at his feelings more closely, and sitting at the pier like he used to with his stepfather had brought back a lot of memories. The man had treated him no differently to his own flesh and blood – and while he hadn’t managed it in the most constructive way over the years, he had tried to make space for Callum to have a relationship with his birth father. And that was something he could live with, knowing that both of them had simply wanted what they each thought was best for him. He could have a relationship with both of the men his mother had loved enough to marry.

Rayla searched his face, and he pulled himself out of his thoughts to give her his full attention.

“You got that frowny thinky face on.” She said, gently lifting the lock of hair that always fell across his eyes.

“I have a big feeling.” Callum said with a soft smile, which became a grin when Rayla returned it with a sardonic one of her own.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I have two dads, and I have complicated relationships with them both. That makes me happy and sad. And I think I’m okay with it.”

Rayla kissed his cheek and wrapped him up in her arms. He returned the embrace and buried himself in her gentle touch.

“I hear you.” She said simply.

The wonderful, comforting moment was broken when Ezran walked past them along the corridor and groaned with exasperation.

“Gees, you two, _get a room_.”

Callum leaned back to see what Rayla was doing, and found her making a rude hand gesture at Ezran. He reached out to lower her hand, and turned towards Ezran to start admonishing him as he returned the sentiment with a more vulgar gesture. Then Rayla used both hands to half mime half sign something even ruder and more violent, and Callum slapped her wrist as he pointed at Ezran.

“Enough! The pair of you. C’mon, how old are you?”

“She started it.” Ezran pointed at her accusingly.

“Excuse me?” she retorted, cool and unimpressed.

“Everybody, just-! Calm down. No swearing, no acts of violence, just-” Callum took a deep breath, and slowly lowered his flat hands down to waist height. “Calm. Okay?”

Ezran flicked his gaze between the pair of them. “Go have sex somewhere else.”

Callum wrung his hands despairingly. “How is a hug indecent?!” he demanded as Ezran slammed his bedroom door behind him.

Rayla slid her arms around Callum’s waist from the side and squeezed his backside. When he gave her a dull look for groping him with abandon in a relatively public place, she said under her breath, “Ask a stupid question…”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” He affected a bored tone, and turned to head to their own room, hoping Rayla would take the bait.

She did, and they were groping each other on the threshold, intent on entering and locking the door, when Ezran came back onto the landing.

“For fuck sake, you two! Save it for the log!” he stormed off in a huff, and Callum blinked in surprise when Rayla took a step back and stared at him quizzically.

“Whut?” he asked, a little breathless and very much embarrassed.

“You have _got_ to tell me what that means. Am I missin’ somethin’? I thought the euphemism in this language was _wood_.”

Callum sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. “No, it’s…ahh, kinda stupid.”

“ _What_?” Rayla poked him in the stomach.

He smiled ruefully as he explained, “That talk I had with him, about life, the universe, and sex. We were sitting on that log down by the riverbank, and because it was embarrassing and awkward, I promised him what was said at the log _stayed_ at the log.”

“Ohhh,” Rayla said exaggeratedly. “That makes more sense. I thought it was another one of those language thin’s.”

“Well, I mean, in some dialects they _do_ refer to the erect penis as a log, but more commonly-” he squeaked when Rayla grabbed him between his legs and pushed him inside the room.

“Huh.” She looked ever so slightly disappointed as she gripped him just a bit more firmly. “I thought you’d be harder than that.”

Callum gave her that long suffering look that had her biting her lip to keep from laughing. “That’s what voyeurism does to me.”

“Oh, what a _shame_. I just have to try harder,”

As Rayla was making good on her threat, Soren thumped on the door and shouted, “Ding ding ding! Time for the travel meeting!”

Rayla scowled at the door. “I swear,” she growled. “One day they’ll find him in an alley with his sword shoved so far up his-”

“Yes, thank you,” Callum disengaged her hand from his body, and he went for the water pitcher.

“Where y’goin’?” Rayla demanded, following him closely across the bed sheets.

“Guys, I know you’re in there!” Soren shouted brightly, pounding his fist on the door again.

“Fuck off,” Rayla called back aggressively. “You. Explain yourself.” She demanded in a low voice to Callum.

“Rayla,” he pleaded. “We have to go downstairs, and he’s not going to leave us alone. And I am _not_ going down like this.”

“So? Lemme help you with that,” Rayla reached for him again and he jumped back with a squeak.

“You are _not_ doing that with Soren outside the door!” he hissed, face bright red. If it were physically possible to die of mortification alone, it really would be the death of him at this rate.

As if to hammer the point home, Soren kicked the door. “You have till the count of eight!”

“I said **_fuck off_**!” Rayla shouted back at him, raising her voice.

What with one thing and another, all the disruptions served to dampen Callum’s arousal pretty quickly. He just couldn’t perform when he was this embarrassed, or when someone was eavesdropping, so Rayla grumbled and sucked it up with as much grace as she could muster.

The travel meeting was mostly just to confirm the time of departure, check everyone was packing up, and for Amaya to terrorise her nephews a bit longer before duty called. Callum sighed to himself as she chased Ezran around the chairs and sofa by the fireside, and slunk away at the first opportunity. Rayla followed in his wake, and once they were shut and locked in their room again she sat down on the foot of the bed and watched him balefully as he checked on his bags again.

Eventually, he lifted his head, gazing off into the middle distance, and said, “I can hear you frowning.”

“I’m pissed off.” She told him pugnaciously.

Callum took his sweet time buttoning the saddlebag up before he stood and walked over to stand beside the bed. Rayla scowled up at him as she leaned back casually, subtly showing off her willowy, sinuous body.

“You won’t have sex with me.” She said accusingly.

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Why not?” That had, in fact, been his intention once he could confirm he had gathered up all of his junk.

“Because I’m angry. And you won’t have sex with me when I’m ‘in an emotional state’.” She did air quotes and everything, mimicking his mannerisms.

Callum snorted softly and folded his arms. “I meant that I don’t think it’s healthy to have sex when we’re angry or upset with each other. Have I done you some grievous ill recently?” he asked mildly.

Rayla groaned and slid back until she was lying flat on the bed. She put her hands over her eyes and said, “No. You’re perfect. And that’s the whole fuckin’ _problem_.”

Leaning down and bracing his knees against the side of the bed, Callum straddled her waist and ran his fingertips up her sides, sliding beneath her clothes teasingly. Rayla rolled her hips, biting her lip, and met his gaze with a lazy smile.

“I’m not opposed to a little _rough_ sex.” He murmured, digging his nails into her skin.

Rayla sighed and pushed up against him. “You don’t do fuckin’. You make love. You’re incapable of anythin’ else.”

“Ah, is that a complaint?”

He loved the twinkle in her eye as she pulled him down to meet her kiss. “Merely an observation.” She used his turn of phrase, before fisting her hands into his hair.

Someone pounded on the door, making Callum jump out of his skin with a squeak, and Soren yelled something mildly abusive at Rayla.

She stared daggers at the door, and then flung Callum aside as she whipped out one of her swords.

“It’s stabbin’ time.”

Rather than try to dissuade her, Callum just flopped back against the covers and gazed up at the rafters above, while he heard Rayla slam Soren into the wall in the corridor and berate him loudly with further threats of violence, which only made him cackle with malicious glee. Ezran came towards the commotion and joined in with a whoop, and Bait stalked into the bedroom to escape the noise. He leapt up onto the bed beside Callum, and grumped loudly as he settled down for some quiet and sympathy.

“This is my life.” Callum said dully to no one in particular.

Bumbling through, trying and often failing to have a moment alone with his lover, and having the world, their spouse and favourite pet wanting their attentions instead. Bait butted his arm, and he absentmindedly scratched the glow toad’s head. When Rayla finally came back, arm bruised and face scarlet because of Soren’s teasing that had caught Ezran in the crossfire, she burrowed wordlessly under the blankets and refused to resurface until dinner.

It was a quiet affair that night, no one really wanting to leave just yet, and knowing that they had to. Callum kept touching Rayla’s hand, smoothing her hair back – just letting her know she was at the top of his priority list right now. They finished eating, tidied up, and reluctantly said goodnight before going their separate ways.

Callum waited, and saw that Rayla’s pride was too wounded still, so instead he snuggled in close and wrapped her up in his arms.

“I love ye too,” she poked his nose with a shy smile. “Dummy.”

He smiled back and kissed her mouth before settling down to sleep. They wouldn’t get to wake up in each other’s arms much for quite a while, and they both wanted to savour the feeling while they could.

XOXO

Rayla expected the journey back to the Castle to be loud and chaotic, but it was uncharacteristically quiet. Everyone was subdued, reluctant to return to the mounting duties that awaited them. Ezran was especially downcast, and poked at his breakfast unenthusiastically while Amaya went through a last minute checklist. Callum cracked a truly awful joke about mushroom omelettes (the punchline being ‘there’s not mush-room inside the pan!’) and Rayla couldn’t even summon the energy to glare at him, she just pressed her brow against the tabletop and groaned.

They ate, cleaned and packed away the cutlery and plates, before going around and closing all the doors and shuttering the windows. It all felt rather depressing, and Rayla gave the boys some space as they quietly reminisced about how they used to go through these motions with their father. There were an awful lot of memories tied to this place.

Then, all too soon, they had tacked up, packed up, and were heading down the road towards the Capital. The sky was clear and achingly blue, with a fat bank of yellowish grey clouds sneaking up on the horizon that had Callum squinting at it with intent.

Soren picked a fight with Rayla with a weak smile on his face, and Rayla retaliated so she had something to do other than mope. They continued to throw snowballs at each other until Callum twisted with a startled yelp and nearly fell out of the saddle, and Amaya fished him back into position. This all made Ezran laugh, and although he turned aside and remained mostly quiet for the rest of the journey, he had a smile on his face.

Rayla had to stand up in the stirrups to reach up and ruffle Ezran’s hair, brushing the last of the snow away. He gave her a bright smile, and rode forth with a greater spring in his seat. She turned with a sardonic smile to Callum in time to catch his wistful expression.

“What?” she asked as their horses proceeded at just enough of an angle to put some distance between them and the rest of the travelling party.

Callum sighed pensively again. “He’s heading for another growth spurt.” He said simply as he watched his little brother go. “None of his official kingly clothing is going to fit for much longer.”

“He can’t grow any taller.” Rayla implored him, fluttering her eyes wide.

Callum stared straight ahead. “Six foot eight…” he sang under his breath.

“Ugh…” Rayla groaned. “I miss the days when he was small enough t’sling over m’shoulder.”

“Life was so much easier back then.” Callum lamented, hand over his heart.

Rayla scoffed. “Maybe for me. You couldn’t keep up with him even then.”

“True.” Callum shrugged, knowing the argument was already lost.

Ezran insisted that they stop for lunch instead of eating in the saddle, and Rayla suspected that he was delaying the inevitable. Not that she blamed him, because she felt the same way, and she wanted to enjoy these last few hours before duty called. Soren was telling Janai and Corvus about a sparring match he’d had with some of the Earthblood elves, and waved his own sword around for emphasis. While he was gesticulating and bragging about how he’d taken on two at once, Callum spun absentmindedly on his back leg, found the blade right in his face, and shrieked in alarm. He back tracked quickly, slipped on a patch of ice, and flailed wildly before crashing into Rayla, who had been moving in his direction the moment she heard his distress. They landed in a heap in the snow, Callum’s face buried somewhat comically in her bosom, while Soren and Ezran laughed unhelpfully.

Rayla stared up at the sky dully, and said flippantly, “Full marks for foreplay,”

Callum winced, and in an all too small voice said, “Ow…”

Rayla flipped him onto his back and started checking him over for injuries. The broach from her cloak had made a dent in his forehead, and he pressed a hand to his chest with a shiver that didn’t seem linked to the cold. He wasn’t burning up, though he did feel a bit clammy, and Rayla thought back to the last time his wound had been treated. Not since the beginning of the holiday, she realised with surprise.

“Is he okay?” Ezran asked, looming over her shoulder and looking very worried.

“How many fingers?” she asked, holding up her hand and folding in the third finger.

Callum blinked at her, and said, “Two.” Ezran gave a little intake of breath, and Rayla inspected Callum more closely. Then he grinned unrepentantly and said, “You didn’t say anything about thumbs.”

Rayla smacked him upside the jaw with an open palm and turned to quell Ezran’s concerns. “Smart arse. He’s _fine_ , Ez. Just ignore’im.”

Despite her reassurances to Ezran, she kept a close eye on him as they wended their way down the road; Callum _seemed_ all right, if a bit tired, but she knew he was good at hiding things. And was about as keen to be going back on duty as she was, which explained the slump in his shoulders and the tired expression.

By the time they reached the bridge to Orphan’s Rock that afternoon, Callum was recovered. He only worried his chest once, and other than the general air of melancholy that had settled over them all, he seemed in fair enough spirits. Rayla leaned over to take his hand and give it a loving squeeze, and enjoyed the warm smile she got in response.

The moment was shattered when the duty guardsman barked, “Halt! Who goes there?”

Rayla blinked, and turned in the saddle to look behind her dramatically before coming round to fix Nathan and Jenny in place with her stare. “Who the fuck d’ya think?”

“State your name and business!” Nathan demanded, and Jenny slammed her halberd into the ground with a clang.

“Are you _seriously_ doin’ this?” Rayla growled at them for dramatic effect.

Callum drew himself up pompously and affected an arrogant air that just looked ridiculous on him. “I, am Garlath the Annihilator.” He said primly, and fell into a stiff bow that made his horse shift uneasily beneath him.

“Yeah right,” Rayla snorted with amusement, giving him a sardonic smile. “And I’m Queen of the Fairies.”

“Ohhh!” Jenny bounced on the balls of her feet and pointed at her. “That explains why your skin reflects the light! You’re positively _luminous_!”

Ezran pulled up alongside Rayla, eyes wide and shining. He grinned at the guards, who all gave him a polite and cursory bow as they were on duty, and said, “If you’re the Fairy Queen, can I be the Baby Banther?”

Janai raised an eyebrow at him as her mount drew abreast with them. “Of all the deities and folklore…?”

“What?” Ezran defended his choices with the same kind of haughtiness as Callum, and the younger members of the crowd laughed. “It’s my favourite constellation!”

“Welcome back, your Majesty,” Marcos said, giving the King a bow and sweeping Nathan out of the way.

“Thank you, Commander Marcos,” Ezran returned the bow and urged his horse forward. “I hope you all had a pleasant Solstice.”

And he was back in King mode. Rayla and Soren shared a long look as the two boys got to work on politics again as soon as they dismounted in the main courtyard. Soren made a show of rolling his eyes and doing a poor pantomime of Callum behind his back, and Rayla had to hold onto Jenny’s arm as she bent over laughing when Callum reached out without looking and unclipped the buckle holding his sword in place. Soren yelped and scrambled to grab his weapon before it crashed to the cobbles, making everyone around them giggle.

“So no change there, then,” said a familiar voice, and Rayla turned round to find Ariadne standing in the doorway of the stables, arms folded, leg trembling slightly, and grinning at the Crownguard’s expense.

“Good Solstice?” Rayla asked as she started leading the horses inside.

Ariadne looked positively smug. “We got drunk and sang each other’s traditional folk songs. A shot for every syllable mispronounced. It was immense.”

“How many casualties?”

“Nothing a fry up couldn’t cure,” came the light and airy reply, and Rayla rolled her eyes.

Humans had this notion that the best cure for a hangover was a fry up involving lots of bacon.

Then she noticed Malra sitting cross legged in the doorway of Io’s stall, cleaning tack while the Moonstrider rolled around on his back behind her, fawning for attention comically like a cub.

“You up in the dispensary for Solstice?” Rayla asked her as she walked by, eyebrow raised and speaking in their language.

“Utter carnage.” She saluted solemnly. Then her mouth twisted in a wry smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, and she reached behind her to scratch Io’s chin as he twisted around with a playful growl, wriggling with pleasure.

Ariadne and Malra continued their chat, pausing to acknowledge Callum as he hurried in after Rayla and took the reins of his horse. They worked together in companionable silence to untack and settle their mounts in. Pebbles looked out over the top of his stall and blew at Rayla as she walked by with feed, and she took pity on him with an extra carrot until Ariadne pointed at him accusingly and proclaimed him to be a liar.

“He’s been fed five times today. Whatever those doe eyes of his say is a _lie_!”

“Well that makes two of you,”

Rayla stood up straight and tall at the biting edge of Seb’s words, and frowned furtively in his direction. She hadn’t noticed him since she arrived, and had not seen him take such an aggressive stance against his sister before. Ariadne’s face went blank, the way it did at Court when she was trying to hide her thoughts and avoid knee jerk reactions. Malra paused in the act of running a whetstone over her clasp knife, and eyed the man with deliberation before passing the stone over the metal again with exaggerated slowness. Callum ducked out of the stall, looking as surprised as Rayla felt.

Ariadne sighed, and began with, “This isn’t the place-” in a low voice, but she was cut off abruptly.

“No, it never is, is it? There’s always something else more important to see to, isn’t there?”

Her eyes hardened just a little bit. “It depends entirely on the context of the situation.”

“Or maybe you just like picking and choosing. And being fucking economic with the truth.”

“Don’t start this again, not here-”

“Thank you for proving my point. You never want to talk when it’s convenient for _me_ , just for _you_.”

“Some things _are_ more important when-!”

“Oh, so I’m not important at all to you anymore? Thanks, Ari. Good to know where your loyalties lie.” Seb spat at her before he stormed out of the stables.

Ariadne shook her head wearily, passing a hand over her eyes. “That’s not what I – _Seb_! That isn’t what I meant!”

“Err,” Callum lifted a tentative hand towards her as she limped past. “Is everything…?”

“Don’t go there,” she said with a finality that brooked no argument, and they all watched her leave the stables at a stumbling gait.

Callum blinked like it would shake his thoughts into order, and Rayla turned to Malra expectantly. They had struck up something of a relationship via their mounts, and spent a lot of time in each other’s company outside of duties. The elf shrugged, looking away as she went back to her blade.

“The list for the Katolian delegation has been finalised.” She explained quietly, speaking Xadian to throw off the curious stable hands watching. “Seb didn’t know she’d applied to go. Didn’t take it well.”

Rayla glanced at Callum, who looked troubled by this news, though he didn’t pass comment on it for now. They were both mulling their thoughts on the matter over (Rayla wondering whether it was inappropriate to intervene in some way, given she was increasingly fond of the human) when Ezran came flying into the stables in a panic. Callum dropped the bucket in his hands and ran to him, clearly alarmed, and Ez needed to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before he could speak.

“Dorian’s here.”

“Who?” Callum asked blankly.

“ _King_ Dorian. Of Neolandia. Is here. In the throne room. Wants an audience. To discuss the contents of my last letter.” Ezran looked like he might spontaneously explode. Or implode. Or just collapse in a dead faint.

Callum’s eyes went very wide, and he gently took his brother by the shoulders to ground and centre him. “It’s okay Ez, he’s in your territory. He can’t do anything without risking an international incident. Even _he’s_ not that stupid.”

Rayla snorted under her breath, and shared a wry, sideways smile with Malra as she heard the other elf do the exact same thing.

“I _told_ you the way you phrased that bit about not wanting to cause further frictions was too passive aggressive-!” Ezran wrung his hands.

“And we’ll deal with him. Just breathe,” Callum said, gentle but firm as he held him.

It took a couple of attempts, but Ez calmed down after he got control of his breathing, and Callum acted quickly. He scooped up their packs, having to unbuckle Ezran’s from the saddle, and hastily kissed Rayla’s cheek goodbye with a murmured apology about the horses and the short notice before promising to see her later. She tried to smile reassuringly, but it was half hearted when either of the boys were looking at her, and non-existent when they had turned away and headed for the doors, heads close together and planning on how to deal with this latest mess.

“Never rains,” Malra said dully, sliding the whetstone over her knife with an ominous ringing sound.

“But it bloody well pours, dunnit?” Rayla growled under her breath.

By the time she had tended to Callum and Ezran’s mounts, Amaya and Janai had been whisked away on military matters, Barius was already back in his domain in the bakery, and Soren had rushed off with Ezran to attend to their royal visitor. The only one left from their party was Corvus, and when Rayla asked why he wasn’t in the throne room as Head of Security, he said mildly, “Staking out the new arrivals.”

When she turned to look, Rayla was shocked to see a fairly large travelling party from Neolandia, all wearing nondescript clothes and none of the royal colours. Even their horses were tacked up unobtrusively. Like they were trying to hide the fact that their King had paid an unexpected visit to Katolis during a festival season.

“Need an extra pair of eyes?” Rayla asked quietly, gazing up at the banners flying on the nearest tower with feigned interest. She smirked when the corner of Corvus’ mouth twitched upwards.

“If you can be subtle about it…I’d appreciate your opinion.”

Rayla grabbed the first people she could find: Malra, Aibeck, Mattrim, Jenny and Kora. The latter had already clocked the visitors, and apparently even knew a couple of the soldiers by name, and Malra was already aware of King Dorian’s presence. The other two caught on quickly, and played along with Rayla’s plan without needing direction. They walked past the group, chatting just a bit louder than was necessary, and Kora made a show of noticing her distant cousin, who she didn’t actually know very well, but who knew of mad old Uncle Simon and his latest crazy antics, and happily struck up a conversation with her. Mattrim smiled politely and enquired after the good health of their party from the Captain of the Guard, who had removed every badge of office aside from the pommel on his sword (even the scabbard had been switched out to something plain and uninteresting). That left Jenny to chat away with the elves animatedly while Rayla scanned the small crowd and picked out details of importance.

All soldiers, except for three who could have been mages. At least one of them certainly was; probably male judging by the frame under the thick cloak, and their demeanour as they walked around, though Rayla couldn’t see their face or the cut of their clothing underneath to give anything away. All she _could_ see were a pair of thin hands, with curious tattoos on the knuckle joints, wrapped around a staff. They weren’t especially furtive, and while they did bristle at her gaze, so did most of the soldiers; Malra stared back intently until the human turned aside, and she gave Rayla a meaningful look as she did likewise. She caught Kora’s eye, and the woman looked in the person’s direction; she smiled and said, “Ah! You’re from the Wandering Tribe, right? Mage’s Guild? Do you know my cousin Charlie?”

“Uhh…” her other cousin blinked, slowly lifting his hand. “Kora, Charlie left the Guild. He’s been apprenticed to the Court Baker for like…a year now?”

“Oh, I know _that_ ,” she said dismissively. “I was just wondering if this kind gentleman had heard from him before he left.”

The Mage cleared his throat, and spoke in a smooth voice that sounded quite uncertain. “Forgive me, but I don’t know your cousin.”

“You look frozen,” Kora stated. Then, in a bright tone she went on, “Why don’t you all come into the guard room? It’s a lot more comfortable than waiting out here,”

She and Matt chivvied everyone inside, and once they were alone Jenny’s smile fell into a frown. She stood with Aibeck and Malra, passing her halberd between her hands meditatively as Corvus approached Rayla at a distance.

“Anything of note?”

Rayla frowned. “The one with the scar on his cheek’s nursin’ somethin’ in his coat, probably a small pocket sewn into the linin’.” Potentially a small vial suitable for poisons, though she didn’t say it out loud. Corvus was used to her suspicious mind and the avenues it went down when it came to protecting Callum and Ezran. “The one with the longbow I _think_ is just nervous but best check her out to be sure.” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t wanna stereotype, but that Mage…”

Corvus looked a bit grim, but nodded thoughtfully and patted her shoulder. “You’d better make yourselves scarce before they come back outside.”

Rayla scowled when they were alone again, and glowered at Jenny when she slapped her elbow by way of a greeting. “So welcome back.”

“Don’t fuckin’ start with me,” she growled back.

“Should we be concerned?” Aibeck asked, trying to keep his tone light, but his agitation was clear.

“Nah,” Jenny waved her hand vaguely. “They’re full of hot air. King Dorian’s trying to pull a power play, that’s all.”

Aibeck folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “On…King Ezran’s own turf?” he asked uncertainly.

“This is the younger and _less_ mature brother of the fucker who thought threatening internal war within the Pentarchy was a good and reasonable bargaining chip to get his own way against Xadia.” Jenny pointed out. “I might be shocked, but I’m sure not surprised by his tactics.”

Aibeck looked to Malra for comment, and she shrugged at him. To Rayla, he asked, “Are human politics always this complicated?”

Rayla’s scowl and slumped shoulders was all the answer he needed.

XOXO

New Year celebrations came and went, and the preparations for the spring Summit ramped up. They all still managed to have some fun along the way, despite the workload. Callum messed around with Amren to make the fireworks Moonshadow grade, and had apparitions and spectres of colourful light bouncing around the main courtyard for the delight of the children (and quite a few adults, too).

There was also an impromptu ritual in the main hall at the lunar new year. It started with the older Mages amongst the elves singing in Draconic when prompted out of curiosity by the Minister of Agriculture, and ended with all the elves in attendance plus their particular human friends who got dragged into the throng. The crowd stood in a loose spiral, everyone placing a hand on the shoulder of the person in front of them. According to tradition, the oldest Archmage was meant to stand in the middle, but as Callum didn’t know the words or the ceremony, Nia tactfully took the lead as she was the next closest in rank and knew what to do. However, Brock bundled Callum into the fray, so that by the time the crowd had assembled itself, he was relatively close to the centre, and watched closely while the Healer showed him when to pound his staff against the flagstones in time to the song.

It was an enjoyable experience for all involved, and in the following days and weeks the general consensus seemed to be that it had gone a long way to winning over those still dubious at the thought of an alliance with Xadia. Callum suspected it had something to do with the fact that every human involved had been welcomed into the circle by their friends. It was hard to hang onto the stereotype of a bloodthirsty, conniving monster when they had turned to the humans by their side with a smile and led them by the hand into a community-based activity. There had admittedly been a few on the periphery who watched on in alarm, but it was quite obvious nothing untoward was going on.

When he wasn’t involved in team building exercises like this, Callum was busy liaising with all the diplomats involved with the Summit. He was also teaching alongside the other Mages, as well as overseeing the documentation of Viren’s notes. His wound started to act up again, and he chalked it up to the stress of work. There was also his ongoing anxiety for Rayla’s wellbeing – she had sent a letter to her parents before the Solstice and not yet heard back from them, which she was taking on the chin for now but he knew it worried her.

In the meantime, Rayla was teaching basic training to the army recruits, and anyone else willing to stick it out first thing in the morning on the training grounds – and by basic training, she meant _Runaan’s_ regime. Aibeck started for a laugh before dropping out very quickly, and was heard on more than one occasion complaining loudly about how he had forgotten just how much he _hated_ training. When she wasn’t out on the field, standing around looking pretty and diplomatic in the background, or trying to get into Callum’s clothes, Rayla was busy with Amaya planning and delegating jobs, and chasing people up when they didn’t meet their given deadline, which frustratingly happened a lot.

Ezran was stuck dealing with King Dorian’s antics for a couple of weeks, and he eventually left of his own accord, before Rayla could make good on her threat to set Miriam on him. With the Neolandian nuisance out of the way, he had affairs of state to contend with, a council to lead, and the Summit to prepare for. Drafts for the official treatise were made, and Ezran spoke to as many elves as he could to get as many different perspectives as possible before the papers would be handed over in Lux Aurea. There was also the matter of the new legislation as part of the initiative to phase out Dark magic – one of the things King Dorian had been complaining about.

Bran had to drag himself away from Viren’s old notes to sit in on that particular meeting, keeping a careful mask of neutrality on before spitting feathers behind the scenes afterward. He took his concerns to Callum, because he felt it wasn’t Dorian’s place to dictate Katolian law like that. Everyone came to a similar conclusion that it was all just an attempt by the older teen to bully Ezran into submission.

“You think he’s tried that with anyone else?” Hana asked dully one evening at one of the relaxed socials, as they compared their notes on the matter.

Ariadne took a sip of her wine and sighed. “I pity him if he tried in Duren. Queen Aanya is terrifying when she’s angry, and she does not suffer fools gladly.”

Callum gazed intently at his own goblet, swilling the contents around before taking a draught. “You’ve spent time in her Court.” He said slowly.

“Funny that, being a diplomatic brat.” Ariadne said mildly.

Rayla sniggered from her perch on the arm of the sofa, and grinned when Callum gave her a vague dig in the ribs. With everyone who frequented these little informal events being so on board with the idea of global peace, everyone felt relaxed enough to talk more openly about politics than they might otherwise have under different circumstances. So while they huddled in one corner on a nice squishy couch, there were about four other such groups dotted around the spacious room.

Callum glanced at the opposite corner, where Brock and Nia were in deep conversation with Gren, Matt, Sabah and a handful of other human and elves in the military. Then he turned back to Ariadne, who was looking away but had her ear inclined towards him.

“How would _you_ approach conversation with Queen Aanya?”

“Who, _me_?” she looked down right startled at the thought, though she covered it up quickly. And scowled at Rayla’s long, low laugh at her expense. “I wouldn’t.”

“Explain?” Callum hedged, wanting more information than that. He had only met the Queen of Duren a few times, and always in a formal setting. Part of the point of the Summit was to have some time for the leaders of all sides to have some informal time to talk, and he had no idea how to approach such conversation with her.

“She’s very…” Ariadne frowned, twirling her hand as she sought the right words.

“Intimidating?” Bran offered. He was sitting on the floor playing cards with Kiara, Sam, and a Tidebound elf called Ahmoua while Hana watched with vague interest.

Ariadne struggled for the right words, and then sighed heavily. Running a hand through her hair, she said, “I feel bad for her. She projects this…aura of power and control, she commands the complete respect of everyone in the room,” she shrugged helplessly. “And she doesn’t relate well with anyone her own age. She just doesn’t know _how_ to be a teenager. To be a _kid_. Look at Ez,” she nodded at her King, and those listening to the conversation turned around to the table in the middle of the room.

Ezran was playing air hockey with Soren and Amaya; the game was refereed by a Skywing elf who was apprenticed to Nia, and was grinning broadly while she egged everyone on. Ez was laughing and teasing Soren, signing banter back and forth with his aunt, and just…being Ez.

“You wouldn’t catch Queen Aanya messing around like that. Because she never had that opportunity growing up. Her idea of downtime is reading history books in the library. I’m not kidding,” she added when Kiara snorted with laughter at the thought. “She’s been viewed her whole life either as a ruler or an obstacle. I don’t think she knows how to be anything else.”

“So…how would you suggest I approach conversation with her?” Callum enquired, mulling over Ariadne’s words and wondering what he _could_ say to the Queen.

Ariadne pulled a face. “It’s going to be an awkward conversation no matter what you do. Outside of politics, I don’t think she knows how to exist.”

Rayla added somewhat unhelpfully, “Ez’ll just bounce round the room bein’ Ez an’ make it awkward before Callum gets a look in.”

He gave her an unimpressed look, and she fluttered her lashes at him. He had half a mind to tip her off the arm of the sofa, but didn’t have the energy to do so, or to face the consequences.

“Brutal but true.” Bran said as he dropped a particularly evil card onto the pile between them all.

“That’s _hardly_ a brutal observation.” Ariadne scoffed.

“Then what would _you_ consider brutal?” he asked, smiling as Kiara placed another pick up card on top of his.

Ariadne made a face and look from Callum to Rayla. “Nah, I’m not that stupid.”

Rayla grinned wolfishly, and Callum pinched her knee.

Sam sucked their bottom lip into their mouth and placed another pick up card on the pile.

“Ohhh, the plot thickens,” Bran grinned at Ahmoua, who stared back at him dead pan.

In theory, she needed to pick up twelve cards, now that they were stacked three high. Then she flicked another one onto the pile, and the couch exploded with laughter as Bran stared in horror at what he had just done to himself.

“That is the funniest thing I’ve seen all week,” Ariadne said weakly, wiping a tear away once she had recovered.

“Hey, y’got a nice lil’ card collection goin’ there!” Rayla told Bran brightly as he struggled to fit all the new cards from the deck in his hand.

“Fuck off,” he spat at her, simmering over the spectacular way his plan had backfired on him.

“Language, Bran,” Sam told him with a warning edge to his tone as he glanced towards a gaggle of children near the hearth.

Bran grumbled to himself and scowled at the others in the game, while they chuckled amongst themselves.

“So about that diplomacy, right?” Ariadne leaned towards Callum, and cackled when he flopped backward in a gesture of defeat, arm thrown dramatically over his face and everything. “Too late in the day, my lord?”

Rayla laughed gently, and smoothed the hair off his brow. He looked up at her with a rueful smile. “I think I’m done with politics for the week.” And paperwork. And Royal duties. Mage training had lost something of its shine as well because Brock had presented him with an _enormous_ textbook to read…

“Better steer clear of this, then.” Ariadne nodded at the card players.

Kiara put down her last card and smiled at the group as the game ended.

“I hate you all.” Bran muttered, sifting through the twenty odd cards in his hand. “ _So_ much.”

“Another round?” Sam asked as they prepared the deck for shuffling.

“Deal me in, sibling.” Ariadne said, precariously perching herself on the edge of the sofa.

Sam paused before complying. “Now there really _will_ be blood,” they commented lightly.

Rayla yawned theatrically and pinched Callum’s shoulder while everyone else was occupied with the new game. Hana also joined in this time, and Callum sensed an opportunity to slip away soon. They had paid their social and diplomatic dues, and he had enough information to think over before the next week’s meetings. He had promised Rayla a night of passion this weekend, and he intended to keep his word.

“Your necklace is interesting.” Kiara said to Bran while Sam dealt everyone seven cards. “May I have a closer look?”

“Sure,” he looped it over his head and handed it over.

Callum pretended to take an interest in the conversation while Rayla massaged the back of his neck, her fingers working their way lower towards his spine.

“I am unfamiliar with this rune,” Kiara murmured, tracing the glyph with her finger. “What does it mean?”

“It’s an old symbol for protection. This had been passed down my family for…I dunno, forever, basically.”

“I just want to warn you all that I get pretty violent with this game.” Ariadne told them as she checked her cards. “Oh fuck you Sam, you’ve given me a shit hand.”

Sam sighed heavily as they set one last card down in the middle of the circle before placing the deck beside it. “Always my fault…” they tutted to themselves.

“If this was family house rules and I went out on these cards I’d be out of the league in one round. Fuck you.”

Rayla turned to Callum with a raised eyebrow.

“They’ve got this tradition in their family about how to tally up the scores at the end. First person to a hundred points drops out of the running, and so on.”

“Look at this shit,” Ariadne showed him her hand. “I’m doomed.”

Callum smiled and signed subtly at her, insinuating that she at least had enough pick-up cards to protect herself and pass the buck. Kiara dealt the first card, and the new round began; while they were absorbed in trying to screw each other over as much as possible (such was the nature of the game), Callum pretended to yawn and stretch while Rayla sauntered off to pester Amaya. Then he stood up and bade everyone goodnight before he left the hall and made his way up to his rooms. Rayla slid out of the shadows halfway up a staircase and pressed his hand with a wry smile; he squeezed back and kissed her mouth tenderly.

Once they were in his living room, the door bolted firmly behind them, Rayla wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently. She drew back and looked at him wistfully as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Can I ask somethin’ terrible?”

“Okay…?” he replied warily. There were a vast number of things that could allude to.

Rayla sighed, closed her eyes and leaned her brow against his. “Can we skip the sex and just cuddle?”

Callum made a noise that didn’t quite sound like a laugh, but it was pretty close, and smiled at her ruefully. “No, that’s – fine. Is something on your mind…?”

Rayla groaned and wrapped him up in her arms. “When was the last time we _just_ spent time together?”

“Last Thursday.” He squeezed her back and grinned into her hair. “I almost had to use the safe word.”

Rayla poked him in the kidneys so he squeaked, and hummed tiredly when she rubbed his back reassuringly. “I think about and want thin’s _other_ than sex sometimes.” She pointed out wryly.

Callum gave her a bright smile. He wasn’t going to admit it, but the thought of cuddling for the rest of the evening was as enjoyable and appealing as the idea of having sex. “Put the kettle on? I’ll get the bed ready.” He inclined his head towards the door, and beamed when she poked his nose lovingly with a smile of her own.

While Rayla made chamomile and mint tea, Callum used his magic to make the bed warm and toasty, and banked the fire in both rooms for the night. She came back with two steaming mugs, and he presented her with warm pyjamas and bed sheets. They sat up for a while, sipping tea and just talking, about everything and nothing, and then Rayla curled up against his side while he read a book for a bit.

As nice as it was to have some time and space to talk to each other without anyone else around, it was nice to sit in companionable silence and simply be in each other’s company.

Callum started dozing off after a while, and Rayla plucked the book from his hands before he could smack himself in the face for a second time. He yawned widely, stretched luxuriously, and snuggled down beside her with her favourite silly little smile. They murmured their goodnights and settled in, warm and content in each other’s arms. The last thing Callum was aware of was Rayla brushing the hair off his face so she could kiss his brow, and he squeezed her in reply before he drifted completely into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started looking up sign language a while ago out of curiosity; I’m still very much a novice, but I have tried to write the signing in this chapter similar to the way my textbook translates signs and gestures into sentences. It’s quite different to how you would speak out loud, and a lot harder to do in a prose format than I anticipated xD if it doesn’t hit the mark to anyone well versed in signing I apologise for my clumsy attempts.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive feedback is greatly appreciated so that I can improve on my creative writing skills.


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